


Make A Beast Out Of You

by Moriartys_Minion



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: And yet there's still all of this porn?, F/F, F/M, I Don't Even Know, Lydia and Jackson are werewolves in this AU, M/M, Multi, Other, Pretty much every sexual pairing on this show EVER, Smut, Succubus!Stiles, Where did all this plot come from?, some gore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-22
Updated: 2013-09-10
Packaged: 2017-11-08 07:04:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 63,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/440475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moriartys_Minion/pseuds/Moriartys_Minion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Only Stiles could go visit colleges for a weekend and come back to Beacon Hills as a newly turned sex demon. A really hungry sex demon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Eat You Up With A Spoon

**Author's Note:**

> 'Haunt You Every Day' is at a stand still until I can recover my completed works so I decided to keep my Muse busy. The dirty she-devil (because really aren't all Muses horny she-devils?) wanted an excuse to pair Stiles with basically anyone it wanted. 
> 
> This is what came out.

Stiles didn’t know much about the college guy that was currently sucking him off as if his dick were the world’s best tasting popsicle. He knew that the guy had some seriously silky blond hair from how much he’d been running his fingers through it. Stiles remembered that his name was something foreign – something with a lot of vowels in weird combinations and tongue rolling to pronounce it right. Through the haze of pleasure surging through his body Stiles remembered that the guy had shown up to every frat party that Stiles and his two “Student Ambassadors” (aka the pair of over achieving roommates that the admissions office had asked to show Stiles around campus) had taken him to that night.

 

The one thing that Stiles was 100% sure of was that the guy wasn’t human.

 

He wishes he could take more credit for figuring that out but – frankly – it was pretty obvious. He’d never gotten the gay vibe from his two Student Ambassadors and yet he’d watched – supernaturally immobilized – as the mystery guy sucked them both off in their dorm room until they blacked out before turning his attention to Stiles.

 

Which had led to the other obvious clue. The guy had pulled half a dozen orgasms from Stiles in just a few hours. Stiles would really love to take credit for being that much of a stud but he’s not an idiot. Jackson couldn’t have pulled that kind of all night marathon even with his werewolf healing helping him along. He’s working on his seventh ejaculation and he’s still hard, balls straining to keep up but somehow managing.

 

The suction tightens and Stiles is one step further on the way to breaking a world record… if he survives to actually tell anyone about it that is. Stiles thought it made sense that losing his virginity would be the death of him. After all there was no one else he knew of that could hit the cosmic lottery of supernatural-near-death experiences several times in such a short lifespan.

 

“How many is that now?” the mystery lover from hell asks, using his tongue to wipe away a stray dribble of Stiles off his lower lip.

 

The teenager tries not to think about how much that makes him want to go for money shot number 8. When he finds his voice it’s sore and dry from all of his breathy moans and nonsensical babbling. The guy hadn’t given him anything to drink since his fourth orgasm. “Seven. I think.”

 

The guy nods and playfully slaps Stiles on the hip as if they’re sharing a joke. “Only a few more before your heart will give out.”

 

It’s terrifying how casually the man talks about ending Stiles’ life. Or at least Stiles think it probably would be if his body wasn’t being flooded with pheromones and endorphins that make it impossible to feel anything but bliss. He knows that despite his dry throat he should give a shout that is more about getting help than it is a compliment about the older guy’s talent at blowjobs. Stiles wants to get up and run – really he does – but his body is rebelling against him in favor of all the sex. He knows that he should be in a full-blown panic about how the dude is literally going to sex him to death. He knows all of these things and yet all he can manage is a mild, “Well, shit, dude.”

 

“Do you have any idea how tempting it is?” Teeth latched onto one of Stiles’ already sensitive nipples as the other was massaged with nimble fingers. “How delicious you taste? You’re so very rare and you don’t even know it.”

 

“Rare?” Stiles asked recklessly, his usual style. “As in I’d like that human served up rare and not crispy or as in I haven’t had that vintage of cock in a long time?”

 

To Stiles’ surprise the hard body above him vibrated with laughter. He could feel the deep, resonating booms move between their chests. “A little of both honestly.”

 

“What do I – what does it…” Stiles trailed off, his sudden burst of curiosity dying out.

 

“What do you taste like?” the man finished his thought for him, eyes twinkling in amusement and just a flash of hunger. “No need to be embarrassed. You aren’t the first one to ask that.”

 

Stiles smiled tentatively. “Everyone wants to taste their best right?”

 

“Humans are such vain things.” The creature licked a trail down the space between Stiles’ pectorals. “You _do_ win by a landslide though.”

 

“Why?” Stiles asked, unable to stop his damned curiosity that seemed determined to win over control of his mouth from his brain, which would _totally_ have known better.

 

“You’re a virgin,” the man answered with a shrug as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s so rare to find one nowadays.” Stiles gasped as hips thrust down to rub against his aching cock to emphasize the point. “Especially one at his sexual peak.”

 

Stiles would have blushed if all his blood weren’t pooled in his groin. Damn sex monsters and their pheromones keeping him permanently aroused. “It wasn’t for a lack of trying.”

 

“Don’t apologize,” the man said sternly, a hint of anger in his tone. “I’ve been alive long enough to remember a time when people prided themselves on staying pure. Nowadays teens can’t wait to give it away to some loser who won’t remember their existence once the college acceptance letters arrive.”

 

“You know how crazy hypocritical that sounds right?” Stiles replied, gaping up at the supernatural Adonis that had been sexing him up all night. “I mean you kill people with sex. You’re eating _me_ through sex right now. You can’t be a sex monster _and_ a prude!”

 

The man ignored the jab in favor of turning his attention back to Stiles’ nipples. “Just because I’m a Succubus doesn’t mean I can’t have standards.”

 

“Incubus,” Stiles corrected on instinct.

 

“Succubus,” the man argued, voice ringing with authority. “Don’t believe everything you Google. Incubi prey on women. Succubi prey on men… and you are definitely not a woman.”

 

Stiles felt the blush returning to his cheeks. “Thanks? I guess.”

 

The succubus leaned down to take another taste before coming back up and moaning in appreciation. “No, Stiles, thank _you_.”

 

“Virgin taste good,” Stiles replied in mock-caveman impersonation. “I almost forgot.”

 

“It’s not just because you’re a virgin,” came the whispered admittance from somewhere around Stiles’ navel. “You’re like me… or at least have the potential to be. Someone in your ancestry was a Succubus or an Incubus who feel for a Stilinski.” Fingers teased Stiles’ sensitive sides in a gentle tickle. “You can’t turn just anybody into a – how did you phrase it? – sex monster. The combination of flavors makes you the most appetizing human I’ve ever met.”

 

Stiles tried to smile. “Always knew I was special.”

 

The Succubus met his eyes, a serious expression on his face. “We’re a dying breed and it is so very rare to find someone who can be turned… let alone one _worth_ turning.”

 

Stiles frowned. “Than why are you killing me?”

 

More laughter. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Stiles, I’m not going to kill you.”

 

“You’re not?”

 

“No – though you have no idea how tempting it is. I haven’t been this out of control in decades,” the sex demon admitted, eyes darkened in lust. “You’re lucky I had your two tour guides to snack on first or else I might have given in.” His mouth lowered over Stiles’ pulse point, hot breath teasing the skin there. Soft lips caressed the flesh there as if salivating over a juicy steak. It took all of Stiles’ strength to resist arching up and filling that miniscule void. “I could still do it. I could drain you until there’s nothing left but a mindless shell vibrating in pleasure.”

 

Stiles burrowed his head further into the pillow. “Super rare human, remember? So less with the killing talk, please.”

 

The body above him froze, tense and prepared to strike. “You consent?”

 

“Consent?” Stiles echoed back, feigning confusion. “For what?”

 

“Don’t play stupid,” the man growled, reaching down to tug once more on Stiles. The younger male gasped as another climax threatened to erupt thanks to the supernatural urging of the Succubus. “I can either turn you or eat you. I’m afraid my instincts won’t let me do anything else. I try to avoid leaving bodies around if I can help it.”

 

The building pressure was enough to make Stiles see black spots in his vision. “I’m sure that policy keeps the hunters away, too, right?”

 

The Succubus twisted his hand, bringing Stiles right to the edge. It was all the teenager could do not to scream. “And just what does a little human like you know of hunters?”

 

“I – I – I – I can’t fucking breath!” Stiles wheezed.

 

The pressure eased and the man’s anger dimmed to match. “I apologize. You were saying?”

 

“Back home,” Stiles half-lied, panting the whole way. He didn’t want anyone to know about the Pack if he could help it. “My dad’s the Sheriff. They contact him when something monster-like comes to town.”

 

“A lot of us travel through?”

 

Stiles did the best impersonation of a shrug that he could manage while physically exhausted. “Enough to make an impression and the mortality rate climb.”

 

The creature smirked. “Maybe one day I’ll make a visit. See what all of the fuss is about.”

 

“You wouldn’t like it,” Stiles replied with some bite. “Too many teenagers fornicating.”

 

“Don’t get smart.” The reprimand was accentuated with a slight rebuilding of pressure. “I don’t just go for teenagers. As I’ve said, you’re more of the exception than the rule.”

 

Stiles’ eyes drifted over to the still slumbering forms of his two Student Ambassadors. “Are they also an exception?”

 

Despite the relaxed chuckle from the Succubus, the intensity of the orgasm built ever more slightly. “It’s college, Stiles, there are just so many eager young men desperate to experiment. Surely you can’t blame me for taking advantage of an easy meal?”

 

“I’m sure there’s a frat house or two just dying to be your buffet of ecstasy.”

 

“Don’t judge me on how I deal with my hunger,” he replied smoothly. “The more I rotate between pledge classes, the less likely it is that I leave someone dry. It’s like you said, I try to avoid drawing the attention of hunters.”

 

Stiles felt the hysteria enter his voice. “Oh my god. I was joking. Seriously? A whole pledge class?”

 

The man nodded. “If everyone is willing than they’re less likely to say anything… not that they know what’s really going on.” The man grinned and Stiles struggled to imagine it not being genuine. “Frat houses are full of homo-erotic tension. You’ll see when you start college and that hunger creeps in. You’ll be able to _smell_ it.”

 

“What if I don’t want to turn?” Stiles asked quietly.

 

There was a growl of irritation and then Stiles was cumming harder than he had all night. Hell, it was the most intense orgasm of his whole _life_. Stiles was screaming with the strength of it. He barely recognized his own voice with how raw and scratchy his cries were. Stiles was pretty sure he blacked out at some point.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Stiles started at the unexpected apology. He could tell that the man wasn’t used to expressing regret – especially not to his food. Stiles wondered if there wasn’t something about being a monster that made being polite so impossible. Derek had never been one for apologies even before he became the big bad Alpha. Now that he had a Pack it was like pulling teeth just getting him to look repentant let alone act it.

 

“I shouldn’t have done that. You’re too close to death now,” the man whispered softly in Stiles’ ear. A hand petted kindly, soothingly at the cropped hair. “I can’t let you go. Why won’t you just say yes? Don’t you want to have power? To be more than you are now?”

 

“Why does everyone think power is so important?” Stiles whispered tiredly. “You sound like Derek.”

 

The hand stilled in his hair. “Who’s Derek?”

 

Stiles frowned. “No one.”

 

“Is he why you won’t say yes?” the man questioned, staring down at Stiles as if he were an unsolvable riddle. “I don’t know if you noticed but being a Succubus means you can have anyone you want. This Derek fellow could be yours whenever you wanted.”

 

“Not the same,” Stiles mumbled sleepily. “Not love.”

 

The Succubus snorted. “You think we can’t love? You think we’re all about the sex? We can do more than that. We _are_ more than that.”

 

Stiles trembled. “I don’t want it.”

 

“So you’d rather die?”

 

“It’s not the same thing,” Stiles argued tiredly.

 

It wasn’t like Stiles could say yes. What if he couldn’t be part of the Pack anymore? Humans were tolerated but would a Succubus be welcome? Despite what Peter had claimed, Stiles never wanted the bite. Maybe he wanted the boost in confidence that would come with the power. Maybe he wanted the guarantee of family – that unbreakable bond of Pack – that he’d not so secretly coveted since his mother had faded away in an oncology ward. Maybe he wanted the ability to protect his Packmates and his father at the same level with which they protected him. He didn’t want to be a monster either.

 

But he wasn’t eager to die. _Of course_ he didn’t want to die. Who would look after his Dad? Scott would be too busy pining over Allison to check the fast food his father would surely bring into the house. Derek might be the overbearing parent of his Pack but would that care extend to an aging Sheriff in mourning? Stiles doubted it.

 

Scott wouldn’t last two minutes without him. Stiles had been taking care of him since the fourth grade. He used to pack an extra lunch for Scott whenever his mother channeled her inner nurse and insisted on health food. When they were older Stiles would let the tan teen cheat off him in classes. Hell, Scott won’t get into college if Stiles died.

 

Derek and his Pack would probably cause the end of the world – or at least Beacon Hills – as they know it. Stiles had spent too much time trying to remind Derek’s newest wolves of their humanity for them to go ass backwards now. Without him they would have kept on that track to becoming the kind of werewolves that get hunted down. Erica would have kept hitting people with car parts. Boyd would have cut a few lacrosse players in half… with his teeth. And poor Isaac would have gone Jackson-level douche bag trying to impress Derek instead of returning to that loveable underdog that Stiles had risked his life to save in the police cells.

 

Stiles didn’t even want to think about what Jackson and Danny would get up to. Danny was always so loyal to Jackson that more often than not he was an accomplice to Jackson’s antics. Perhaps Danny would be able to keep his best friend in check since Stiles wouldn’t be able to do it but Jackson always did have poor impulse control. More than once it had taken Stiles’ tact and, lets face it, connections to law enforcement to keep Jackson off the radar of any hunters with their own impulse control issues.

 

And while Derek’s crew might destroy the world, Lydia would most definitely conquer it. Not that Stiles would have tried to stop her. Not that Stiles would have been _able_ to stop her for that matter. But at least he could play the Jiminy Cricket to her world-dominating Pinocchio.

 

“You do realize you’re thinking out loud, don’t you?”

 

Stiles damned his mouth for the second time that evening. “You can’t take anything I said seriously. I’m probably hallucinating,” he croaked out. “You know, from the whole dying thing?”

 

“You’re such a people pleaser, Stiles,” the Succubus complimented, stroking his cheek. His tone implied that he wouldn’t be fooled that easily. “All those people back home depending on you. It makes me wonder what you do for you.”

 

“For me?”

 

He hummed appreciatively. “You’re so busy taking care of others, when is the last time you’ve bothered to be selfish?”

 

Stiles cracked a weak smile. “You really think that’s going to work?”

 

“I think I heard a lot of other people named in why you want to live,” he replied simply. “I didn’t hear much about what _you_ need… or want.”

 

“You know what I think?” Stiles asked, his weak smiling growing. “I think you can’t turn me without my consent. I think it’s one of those supernatural mumbo-jumbo rules or something.”

 

The creature stilled on top of him. “You’re so clever… and yet so stupid.”

 

Stiles felt the cold rush of air as the man shifted his weight off of him. He tried to turn his head and see where he’d gone but Stiles could only shift his eyes. His limbs were limp, the weight of his body sinking deeper into the mattress. He couldn’t even flail – and Stiles was kick ass at flailing – as the Succubus moved him around like a ragdoll. A few uncomfortable adjustments later and Stiles was facedown on the mattress. Stiles felt a tremble of fear as the pillow that had been tucked under his head was moved to his hips so that his ass was arched into the air.

 

“What are you doing?” Stiles demanded, panicked.

 

“I’m not a werewolf, Stiles,” the man replied smoothly. “I’m a Succubus. How did you think I was going to turn you?”

 

Stiles made a face into the pillow. “I still haven’t said yes. It won’t work without my consent.”

 

Fingers dripping in lube began to loosen parts of his body that Stiles himself had never tried to loosen. “I have a feeling you’ll be saying yes by the end of this.” Stiles couldn’t help the moan that tore from his throat thanks to the influx of pleasure the creature was forcing into his psyche. Stiles tried to take comfort in the fact that the pain he would normally be feeling was being well hidden. “You only have one more climax left in you, Stiles. You’ll either give in or it’ll kill you.”

 

“What a way to go, though, right?” Stiles asked bitterly.

 

There wasn’t much conversation after that. Not that Stiles was expecting much pillow talk from the Succubus. He knew what the creature wanted out of that silence; knew that it was meant to stretch out. Stiles hated himself for falling into that trap of silence where there was nothing for him to do but think. And poor Stiles with his ADHD was basically thinking a mile a minute. Most of his time was spent thinking about dying or waking up as something no longer human.

 

But his first priority was to avoid thinking about the fingers stretching him open. Stiles definitely didn’t think about how amazing it felt having someone poke at his prostate like it was the best piñata ever. He refused to moan at the feeling of being filled by something so much larger than a bundle of fingers pushing through his tight ring of muscles. Stiles ignored the need to meet the smooth, constant thrusts of the being behind him.

 

Yeah, Stiles definitely didn’t do any of that.

 

It felt like an eternity of thrusts and position changes before the end came. Stiles felt the slow build of his final orgasm begin the moment the Succubus had entered him fully. In the time that stretched on from that moment he’d rode the wave of ecstasy that kept arching ever higher, constantly threatening to crash and drown him. When the moment finally came it felt as if Stiles really were dying.

 

His heart was pounding in his chest. His lungs were straining for oxygen they were too weak to inhale. Stiles had gone blind halfway through and all he could feel was sweat and the body thrusting inside of him. But it wasn’t until that burning heat was being replaced by ice that Stiles realized he was truly going to die.

 

And Stiles really didn’t want to die. So he chose life.

 

Loudly and repeatedly.


	2. Succubus School

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a bit of gore at the beginning. It's tame in my opinion but some people get squeamish. Feel free to skim it if you're one of them.
> 
> Also some questionable consent issues in here. Just saying.

Stiles woke screaming.

 

His body was on fire. Maybe there weren’t flames or smoke but screw anyone that said he wasn’t being burned alive. Stiles tore off the comforter and kicked it onto the dorm room floor. He whimpered at the rush of cold air that provided fleeting relief. Sweat coated his skin and soaked the sheets that were pooled beneath his naked form. The heat returned with such intensity that he didn’t even notice the second set of legs wrapped around him. Stiles _did_ notice the arms that wrapped around him and tugged him backwards into a firm chest.

 

“The pain will pass,” the succubus whispered soothingly into his ear. “I promise.”

 

Stiles shivered but instinctively pressed further back into the man’s body. Wherever their skin touched, Stiles felt a trickle of icy comfort that helped calm the fire blazing through him. “Wha – what’s happening – to me?”

 

Gentle fingers rubbed up and down his sides. “Your body is turning to accommodate your new nature.”

 

“Hurts,” Stiles managed to grunt through clenched teeth.

 

“Your new organs are generating and your bones are growing. Puberty pains have nothing on changing species, Stiles,” came the whispered explanation. “It has its benefits though. The transformation burns up all of the excess fat in your body. Your bones and muscles are growing. Pheromone glands are expanding and new organs are emerging.”

 

The succubus placed a chaste kiss to Stiles’ neck causing the teen to tremble. “Even your busy mind should become clear. You won’t have all the same senses as your werewolf friends but rather a whole new way of seeing the world. You won’t be as strong as them but your abilities won’t leave you wanting either.”

 

Stiles struggled to keep focused on the other man’s words but the heat was impossible to push off. “I don’t want to look different.”

 

“Not different,” the succubus corrected with a touch of fondness Stiles hadn’t expected from someone who had been eating him to death only a few hours before. “All your features will be the same just… enhanced. You’ll still be you.”

 

“I’ll be a monster,” Stiles muttered, bitter. “That’s not me. Not _enhanced_.”

 

The arms around him tightened briefly in response. “Enough of that. Breathe and watch. After you can tell me if you still feel like a monster.”

 

Stiles opened his mouth to retort but all that came out was a gasp of pain. It was as if the succubus’ words had triggered the remainder of the shift in him. His stomach began to spasm, rising and falling in rapid succession. Stiles wondered briefly if these were the kind of cramps that Lydia and Allison were always complaining about – if so, he took back every word about them overreacting. They were totally justified in their monthly bitchiness if this was remotely similar to the shit they had to go through.

 

Stiles’ eyes widened in fascinated horror as the muscles in his stomach began to vibrate. The skin bubbled and stretched as if being boiled from within. There were a series of popping sounds as his newly developed abs slid into place, firm lines crisscrossing into a washboard stomach.

 

“What the fuck?”

 

Panic was too tame a description of Stiles’ reaction. Flashes of the birthing scene from _Alien_ played on the projection screen in his mind. He tried to scramble out of the bed but his body was in too much pain. The arms of his maker locked around him, caging Stiles against him. Not to be outdone, Stiles started to thrash with his legs. He cried out in shock as his knees popped out of place so that his legs could grow. The pain was so intense that he nearly blacked out. Stiles actually would have preferred it to watching his leg bones stretch to add to his height while the muscles wrapped around them hardened.

 

Stiles squirmed as his ass was subjected to the same treatment. Never once in his life – even after encountering the whole ‘Werewolves are real’ revelation – had he expected to feel his ass muscles tighten and clench into a perfected form that would have taken months at the gym to achieve. Stiles nearly managed a snort as he realized it was the second strangest experience for his ass that night; unquestionably the less appealing of the two though.

 

The fire spread to his upper body. Stiles was pleased to see that the change hadn’t left him with ridiculous man-boobs. If anything his pectorals had firmed up with maybe just the hint of jutting. Masculine jutting. His biceps and triceps were treated to the same muscle-bubbling treatment as his lower half had. The muscles in his neck became engorged leaving him gasping for breath until they were done hardening. The pain in his shoulders was the most uncomfortable as the blades broadened and pulled back for better posture.

 

“You’re almost done,” the succubus said. “Try not to fight it when the change takes your mind. It’ll only make it worse and there’s no stopping it now. Just relax into it.”

 

“Easy for you to say,” Stiles snapped, gasping at the sudden ache in his jaw as it burned with the alterations.

 

His cheeks prickled as the last of the baby fat evaporated from his features. He sputtered as the fire decimated his throat, stretching and reforming it to match the succubus physiology. Stiles let out a short screech as his teeth shifted into perfect alignment like someone had given him the worst braces ever. He had just finished swallowing the blood in his mouth when the fire reached his brain.

 

At which point Stiles was only too happy to slip back into oblivion.

 

*

 

When Stiles next woke he wasn’t sure how much time had passed. The curtains were closed over the narrow dorm windows. The only light in the room came from the crack at the bottom of the door. He shifted and immediately felt the aftershocks of the transformation; he’d never felt his muscles so sore before. Not even the time Coach had them running suicides after someone (aka Jackson-the-douche) had thrown cherry bombs into his office. Stiles could feel that the sheets had been changed since he’d sweated and bled on them. The only thing that hadn’t changed was the warm body behind him.

 

“Welcome back, brother.”

 

Stiles couldn’t help but smile at the greeting. The voice of his Sire was made up of the kind of warmth and loving that he hadn’t experienced since his mother had read him bedtime stories. Stiles leaned back against the naked chest and sighed contentedly. A familiar pair of arms crossed over his stomach, hands linking together, before rubbing at the sensitive flesh there.

 

“I shouldn’t feel this good,” Stiles pointed out, his blissful tone sounding out of place with his suspicion. “And I definitely shouldn’t be referring to you as my Sire in my head. That’s a little too _True Blood_ for my tastes, dude.”

 

He could feel the man’s smile from where his lips parted against his aching shoulder blade. “You have excellent instincts, Stiles. You should listen to them. After all, I did make you.” The arms encircling him tightened into a hug. “You’re both my child and my brother now. We are kin. You’ll always feel safe with me, and I with you.”

 

Stiles didn’t know how but he could sense the truth in his words. The sentiment made him a little lightheaded with glee. He thought back to how Scott had fought to resist Peter’s influence after he’d been bitten. Stiles felt as though he owed his friend an apology for thinking he had exaggerated the force of the bond. If anything Stiles was impressed with Scott’s resilience since he himself couldn’t even muster the _desire_ to fight against his own.

 

“Why is it so dark?” Stiles asked because he really didn’t want to deal with that whole Sire-bond business. For the first time in his life the ADHD wasn’t running his brain in a million different directions. His mind was silent – calm even. It was really inconvenient when all he wanted to do was change topics. “Did I sleep the whole day away?”

 

“It’s Sunday morning, first of all,” his Sire corrected, “but the sun has not yet risen.”

 

Stiles felt the panic threatening to overtake his Zen. “I slept almost two whole days?”

 

His Sire nodded, nuzzling into Stiles’ neck and face as he did so. “Your body needed time to heal. Even as we speak it continues to recover. Though now that you are awake you should eat something.”

 

“Something or someone?” Stiles asked, nerves outright dominating his euphoria. He suddenly felt more like himself than he had since being taken to bed two days prior. “I don’t want to eat anyone.”

 

“You’re too weak, Stiles,” the man chastised him. “You need nourishment. I’ve already sent out for some food.”

 

Stiles stilled. “You what?”

 

His Sire chuckled. “Room service would be the best term, I think. They’ll feed you enough to get you going. Besides, how else am I going to teach you how to be a proper Succubus?”

 

“Them?” Stiles repeated back to him. His voice grew louder with his outrage. “As in more than one? I don’t even want to eat _one_ person and you called out for a freaking football team?”

 

“The football team here is pathetic. I wouldn’t eat them if they begged for it,” his Sire responded in mock-indignation – or at least what Stiles hoped was mock-something. Even if the idea of a sarcastic succubus was a little unsettling. “I just invited a few of my regulars over. Some of them aren’t even compelled. I figured you’d _digest_ that better.”

 

Stiles tried to lean back but was still too weak to do anything. He let his head lull back onto the man’s shoulder and glare instead. “And people think I have a sick sense of humor.”

 

The succubus smiled pleasantly back at him before pecking him quickly on the lips. “I know. It’s one of the things I liked most about you.”

 

“You weren’t this funny when you were eating me,” Stiles pointed out, eager to change the topic... again. He was starting to think he’d be ignoring a lot of things now that he wasn’t human. “Or this affectionate.”

 

“You weren’t one of us at that point.” The creature’s expression tightened with pain. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had the company of another succubus.”

 

Stiles couldn’t resist the urge to wiggle his fingers into his Sire’s grips, entangling them in a comforting gesture. God help him he was feeling bad for the monster. The _other_ monster, his brain supplied unhelpfully. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be. We’re not like the werewolves; we don’t like working in groups for very long.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“The competition over prey, mainly. We don’t like to share our food.”

 

Stiles frowned. “But you said that you’d invited your ‘regulars’, right? Doesn’t that count as sharing?”

 

His Sire beamed at him. “Yes, very astute. Even if you weren’t being so squeamish about feeding off them, I wouldn’t let you eat my food. Not directly at least. Besides you’re so inexperienced that you might accidentally drain one of them dry.” He ignored the shiver of fear that vibrated through Stiles’ body. “No matter what you may have heard about our kind, we really do care about those that sacrifice to keep us alive.”

 

“Like humane animal farmers?”

 

“I suppose you could frame it like that,” the man conceded. “We take care of our prey. Like your two tour guides, for example. I’ve already sent them off to meet with the others under my care.” He pointed at the now empty bed across the room. “I hadn’t meant to feed off them but your arrival sent my reproductive instincts into overdrive. But they’ll be part of my stable now. Their tuition will be paid off, they’ll have career connections with former prey, and they’ll always have a home with me.”

 

Stiles gaped at him. “Am I going to be responsible for all that? Cause I hate to break it to you but my Dad can barely afford to send _me_ to college. I really don’t think he’s gonna be cool with paying for some dudes to be my ‘meal plan’ either.”

 

That earned him another chuckle. “It’s not about money, Stiles. You’ll see what they need and provide it for them. I think you’ll find that many young people are willing to be a main course simply in exchange for the pleasure we provide.”

 

“I still don’t get how I’m supposed to eat and yet not eat on your people – food – prey – whatever. You know what I mean.”

 

“I will feed from them and you will feed from me as I do so,” he explained as if it were meant to be obvious.

 

“Like mama birds do for their chicks?” Stiles asked, picturing scenes from that biology class video that had featured way too much regurgitation for his tastes. “I’m torn between thinking that’s cute and asking you not to spit in my mouth.”

 

The older succubus rolled his eyes but nodded at the example anyway. “I suppose that works since you are my child and I’m essentially feeding you by hand – not by mouth – as it were.”

 

Stiles swallowed his nerves and decided to ask the question that had been plaguing him since the whole mess began. “What happens if I don’t want to eat?”

 

“It is your choice. I promised you that much if you were unhappy with the change,” he replied gravely, pressing a kiss to Stiles’ temple. “You will starve to death. It will be a long, slow and very painful process.”

 

“Oh,” Stiles replied, equally grim.

 

“Indeed.”

 

*

 

Less than an hour had passed before their ‘room service’ knocked at the door. Stiles fidgeted with the bed sheets that his fingers were wrapping up. He still wasn’t strong enough to leave the bed – or get dressed for that matter – but Stiles didn’t need strength to panic. His Sire, sensing his discomfort, kept holding his hands down within his own.

 

“They’ll come in one at a time,” the more experienced succubus explained calmly. “I don’t want to overwhelm your new senses all at once.”

 

“Will it really be that bad?”

 

His Sire ignored the question and turned towards the door. Apparently succubi didn’t need to use words or hand gestures with their prey because not a moment later the door was opening. Stiles ducked his head towards his chest, not wanting to make eye contact with whichever one was coming in first.

 

It didn’t matter. Stiles didn’t need to look to know there was a new addition to the room. He didn’t know why his werewolf friends were always going on about scent and heartbeats. Didn’t they know about the warmth that radiated off of humans? Couldn’t they simply feel their life force pulsing away like a beacon in the night?

 

Stiles wasn’t surprised when his jaw was lifted up by his Sire, aiming his head at the stranger in the room. He tried not to think about how all it would have taken was a moment more and he wouldn’t have needed the help. The urge to check out his prey was every bit as tempting as Stiles had been warned.

 

“Don’t be rude, Stiles,” his Sire had rebuked him lightly, smiling across the room at their guest. “There’s nothing wrong with getting to know new people.”

 

Stiles smiled shyly at the newcomer and tried not to leer. “Um… hi.”

 

There was a distinct lack of response. Stiles squinted at the man perched on the other bed before noticing an oddly blank look on his face. Finally he turned to face his Sire. “Let me guess, he’s one of the ones that are enthralled?”

 

The Succubus nodded. “I wanted to start with something simple. You see his eyes? How dilated they are? That’s what happens with prolonged exposure to our unique blend of pheromones.” A proud smirk stretched across his lips. “Makes it much easier for him to listen to my mind and respond. The longer the exposure, the faster the reaction time.”

 

“Mind control?” Stiles asked skeptically.

 

“In a sense. After you’ve fed you’ll be able to differentiate their thoughts and emotions well enough to manipulate them,” he explained. “Once you know which chords to tug on you can get them to do almost anything.”

 

Stiles swallowed, the emptiness in his stomach more pronounced than ever. “Anything, anything?”

 

His Sire smiled wide enough to show off all of his pearly-white teeth. “What would you like to see Jeffrey do?”

 

“No names,” Stiles interrupted immediately. If he was potentially going to feed on any of them – not that he’d really agreed to any eating – than he definitely didn’t want to know their names. “I’m already going to be picturing their faces in my nightmares for the rest of my life. Faces are enough torture, ok? I don’t need to put names to them as well.”

 

Stiles couldn’t fight the hollow feeling in his gut at the disappointed look on his monster mentor’s face. “Very well. What would you prefer we call him?”

 

The teen shrugged. “Whatever.”

 

“His name is Jeffrey,” the Succubus said sternly. “He’s going to nourish you. The least you could do is give him enough respect to learn his name.”

 

Stiles nodded, feeling properly chastised. It still made him feel worse to stare hungrily over at Jeffrey. It was like watching porn and knowing all the intimate details of the actor’s lives. Really hot porn stars with just the right amount of stubble that matched their perfectly spiked, brown hair. He clutched the sheets once more as Jeffrey stood up from the bed and walked calmly towards them.

 

Jeffrey ran a hand through that groomed hair, his t-shirt lifting up just enough to reveal a delicious looking treasure trail. Stiles’ hand itched to trace it, to follow the path up and down until he’d mapped out the other male’s body. His Sire chuckled darkly before nodding to Jeffrey and making all of Stiles’ dreams come true.

 

A cocky smile bloomed on Jeffrey’s face as he stripped off that pesky t-shirt. It was the world’s fastest strip show but still left Stiles’ mouth dry. It took Jeffrey seconds to step free of his boxer-briefs, cock springing free right at Stiles’ eye level. The college student was painfully hard, already impatiently stroking the shaft. Stiles could smell how eager he was for it.

 

Stiles had never been so turned on in his life. He wanted to touch him. He wanted to reach out and hold him and never let go. He wanted to open his mouth and drink from that pulsating heat until there was nothing left. Stiles didn’t even realize he was reaching for Jeffrey until his Sire caught his wrist and pulled it back into his body, grasp firm.

 

A pained moan left him. “ _Please_.”

 

The bed sheets were a thing of the past as Jeffrey joined them on the bed. Stiles’ arms were tugged over his head until they were wrapped around the back of his Sire’s neck. Jeffrey’s body settled evenly over Stiles’ restrained form. His Sire reached around them both to tug at Jeffrey’s firm ass, stirring those hips into a steady motion. Stiles was trapped between them, breathing heavily as Jeffrey rocked against him and his Sire rutted beneath him.

 

Stiles could feel the warm glow of Jeffrey’s life force pool beneath his skin. He just didn’t know how to access it. Stiles ran his hands all over the hard body above him trying to find some hidden opening through which he could capture it. There would be no such luck for him. His Sire however had little difficulties. Jeffrey merely had to bite his own lip before white seed was shooting across Stiles’ stomach, coating him in it. The warmth of it was nothing compared to the life leaking out of Jeffrey, flowing teasingly over Stiles before being devoured by the sex demon beneath him.

 

His Sire leaned down to lock his mouth over Stiles’ in an open mouthed kiss. Energy emptied out of him and Stiles lapped it up eagerly. His tongue flicked out as if it could touch the bit of life that had just been harvested from Jeffrey. He moaned as he tasted strawberries and – somehow – in some bizarre way it tasted just like he imagined Jeffrey would taste if he were a food.

 

“Holy shit,” Stiles said, his whole body shaking from the sensations.

 

Jeffrey was already recovering. Stiles could smell the pheromones that his Sire was pumping into Jeffrey, urging him to stay hard and continue producing. They kept the same pace until poor Jeffrey’s eyes began to roll into the back of his head. Stiles lost count of the number of times his Sire had pulled some of Jeffrey free through his dick. Although if the amount of semen covering his stomach was any indication than Stiles had been on the receiving end of at least four orgasms, each one more earth shattering than the last.

 

Just as Jeffrey slumped towards the wall, Stiles began to feel stronger. He was able to move Jeffrey completely off of him with ease and a strength that wasn’t natural. For the first time in days Stiles stepped out of bed of his own volition and without any assistance. His Sire watched him with a proud little smile that gave Stiles a flutter of satisfaction.

 

“How do you feel?”

 

Stiles smiled hesitantly. “Good… I guess.”

 

He received a decidedly arched eyebrow in return. “Just good?”

 

“Fucking awesome, okay?” Stiles practically shouted, feeling more buzzed than that one time he and Scott had tried smoking pot. “I know I shouldn’t but… _shit_.”

 

His Sire stroked Jeffrey’s face, a fond look on his face. “Don’t forget to say thank you.”

 

Stiles traced his fingers down the unconscious man’s bare leg. His stomach growled as he felt the flow of life pushing against the skin, drawn there by Stiles’ touch. It was as if Jeffrey’s body wanted Stiles to drain the rest of him. As if Jeffrey’s essence wanted to belong to Stiles – belong _within_ him – forever.

 

“Be careful, brother,” came the grave warning. “That’s as slippery a slope as they come.”

 

*

 

Next Stiles was introduced to Eric, one of the frat boys his Sire had mentioned, and Tito, a soccer player who was majoring in sports medicine. Neither of them was enthralled like Jeremy had been. Stiles’ ADHD might have been reduced but suddenly presented with prey that could freely interact had him babbling nervously.

 

Eric tasted like nacho cheese. He was also a painful reminder of Scott. They shared the same happy-go-lucky grin and catalogue of lame, dirty jokes. Stiles could see how Eric would be popular with the Greek crowd. He was a party guy and it didn’t take long for him to loosen Stiles out of his nerves. Eric kept up that running monologue even as Stiles helped strip him out of his clothes and onto the bed.

 

With Eric the experience was less about nourishment and more about education. His Sire taught Stiles how to trigger his pheromone glands. It took some targeting practice. More than once Tito – or poor, blacked out Jeffrey – were left with the raging hard on instead of Eric. Stiles supposed there were worse things to be accidentally hit with. Eventually Stiles got the hang of it and was able to keep Eric erect through the four-course meal that his Sire drained out of him.

 

Tito’s life force was decidedly mint flavored. Stiles figured it was from all of the health food shakes he raved about while they’d been feeding on Eric. His Sire seemed particularly fond of Tito, all heartfelt murmuring and gentle caresses, as they demonstrated how to tell the difference between emotions. Stiles had finally consumed enough that he was able to see the different thoughts and feelings rushing through the Hispanic boys’ mind. He took a few wrong turns in Tito’s mind and ended up seeing more memories than he bargained for where his Sire and Tito looked more like a couple than just members in a parasitic relationship. It would explain why when Stiles tugged on the bright red emotion that he’d been taught was ‘love’ Tito would always look at his Sire and climax hard.

 

The four of them settled onto the floor. Jeffrey was left to his recovery on the mattress. The blankets and bedding were dragged down with them. Eric and Tito were at the center, exhausted and almost to the point of blacking out. Stiles and his Sire nestled into them on either side both buzzing with the high of their feast.

 

All of them were asleep within minutes.

 

*

 

After spending a whole weekend naked, Stiles couldn’t be bothered feeling embarrassed about his body. He snagged a towel from the dorm room, grabbed his bag of clothes and snuck down the hallway to the communal bathroom. Hopefully his Sire and the others would remain asleep long enough for a shower. Stiles was covered in the dried, formerly sticky, evidence of their weekend sex escapade and he wanted to get clean.

 

That and he wanted some space from it all. He needed to feel like himself again and the shower would help. Stiles was already feeling better with some space between him and his Sire. More like himself enough that when Stiles’ fingers brushed his cell phone while hunting for some clean clothes in his gym bag that he nearly shrieked in surprise.

 

“13 missed calls and 20 unanswered texts,” Stiles muttered in horror. “Scott is going to kill me. Shit, _Dad_ is going to kill me.”

 

“Forget to turn it back on?”

 

Stiles definitely shrieked at the new voice. His shoulders visibly relaxed when he realized that the new guy wasn’t his Sire or either of his previous meals. Unfortunately he was faced with a slightly less muscular version of Derek. The newcomer was in a loose pair of boxers, some neon green flip-flops and a matching towel that was hung over a bare shoulder. Stiles wasn’t sure what was harder; keeping his dick down or closing his mouth so that he wasn’t gaping like a fish. The high school student managed a quick nod before taking his stuff into the nearest shower stall and closing the curtains behind him.

 

Deciding to deal with one problem at a time, Stiles hurriedly dropped the phone back into his gym bag. He slipped out of his clothes and zipped them into one of the side pockets as if to protect the rest of his clothes from the sex stains. Not caring about the freezing water temperature Stiles slid into the stream and started to wash away the evidence of what he’d done. His face burned with embarrassment and guilt. He glared at the blurred reflection the shower handle provided, knowing there was no way to wash away the evidence that was inside him.

 

He, Stiles Stilinski, had eaten somebody. Several somebody’s in fact. Other human beings had been his happy meal. And there was no way of avoiding the truth. He’d really fucking enjoyed it. Hell, Stiles was still high off the lives burning inside of him. He could taste the strawberries and hot cheese and mint leaves on his tongue. Every time his eyes closed he pictured his victims moaning in pleasure as he’d helped take them one step closer to the edge.

 

“Fuck,” he groaned, already growing hard again.

 

Stiles wanted to feel sick about it. Really, he did. He could hear a little voice in the back of his head (one that sounded rather suspiciously like Scott’s whining) about being a monster. But there was another voice in his head that reminded him how no one had really gotten hurt. If anything everyone had walked away fully satisfied with the experience. No one had died.

 

 _This time,_ Scott’s voice taunted.

 

Stiles was saved from thinking too much about how only crazy people heard other people’s voices in their heads by a whole new reason to freak out. As soon as Stiles had started to lather his dick with soap he realized that there was a certain part of his anatomy that had changed as well. It wasn’t monstrous or guaranteed to get him any porn roles but after years of memorizing every inch of his penis Stiles liked to think he knew when it had gone through a growth spurt. It was just a little thicker and maybe an inch or so longer. The head had swollen slightly too. There was a decidedly heavier weight to his balls as well. Stiles hadn’t been ashamed of his size before but he was suddenly a lot more accepting of this _singular_ aspect of no longer being human.

 

He was going to have a hell of a time explaining his new body to his lacrosse teammates. Stiles was sure they hadn’t paid enough attention to his dick to notice any changes but they’d definitely notice the rest of him. There would be questions about what kind of steroids Stiles had been using to take him from skinny-nerd to I-could-strip-professionally. The memory of Jackson asking Scott about ‘juice’ haunted his thoughts.

 

Which was a worry because Stiles was positive that he didn’t want anyone to know. The world was a much better place where everyone kept on believing that Stiles Stilinski was the constant-human no matter how many supernatural creatures kept trying to change that fact. He was the researcher in the Pack. They didn’t need him to bust out some new comic book grade powers and help. Stiles was willing to put money on it that Derek would never ever in a million years ask him to sex whatever enemy-of-the-month they were up against into submission. Stiles was equally sure that no one else wanted that to happen; not even him.

 

It wasn’t just that though. Yes, part of him was disgusted with what he’d become and how easily he’d succumbed to his new instincts. But there was a larger concern that he wouldn’t be welcomed back with open arms. He remembered how Derek had acted when they’d suspected Lydia and Jackson of being the Kanima. They’d been ready to kill the threat. Stiles couldn’t help the insecurity-fueled fear that he might be seen as a threat. He’d have to run from Beacon Hills, from his Dad and the last piece of his mother he had left. Even if the Pack somehow accepted him, Stiles knew that the hunters wouldn’t.

 

It was as Stiles tried to get a better look of what he’d have to hide from the world that the teen realized that he hadn’t gotten to see his new ‘enhanced’ self yet. He finished rinsing himself off and waited until the Derek-lookalike had started his own shower before drying off. He left his bag in the shower stall and kept the towel tied snug around his waist. He ripped out a few paper towels from the dispenser and wiped the steam off the only full-body mirror. Stiles checked around to make sure that he was alone – besides the Derek-esque dude who apparently liked early morning showers.

 

He tried to casually drop the towel and check himself out. In the end he still held the cloth in a death grip just in case someone new were to walk in or the other student finished his shower early. Stiles took a breath of encouragement before giving himself the once over… or several once over’s to be exact. He grudgingly admitted that his Sire had been correct about his body almost remaining the same.

 

Even if Stiles’ body looked a few years improved, aesthetically he remained unchanged. It wasn’t as if he looked like Derek or even Jackson for that matter. He was still Stiles. Just a Stiles who did more at the gym than hand Scott a water bottle and ogle the other members. He could always blame the height on a freakish growth spurt. Weren’t the sex-ed classes constantly reassuring him that boys kept on growing up through college? So what if his face had tightened up? Who was going to out right ask Stiles how he’d lost that bit of baby fat? Stiles supposed he could always make up a fake diet like Lydia had once her bite had finally taken. His baggy clothes would still hide the rest of him.

 

Stiles was temporarily distracted from his plotting – an occurrence he was steadily getting used to – by a strange scent in the air. He sniffed at the ceiling above him in an unconscious mimicry of what his werewolf friends did while they were tracking in their human form. At first Stiles thought the familiar smell was from a citrus body wash. His theory further supported by the fact that the delicious smell was definitely coming from the only occupied shower stall. It wasn’t until his stomach rumbled that Stiles realized where he’d smelled that particular scent before.

 

He followed the arousal like a bloodhound until he was hovering just outside of the closed curtain. Stiles licked at his lips as he heard the now familiar sounds of someone jacking themselves off. Derek’s slimmer doppelganger was pumping out so much arousal that it had stimulated the succubus inside of him. Somewhere in the back of his mind Stiles realized that he must have started producing his pheromones while he was checking himself out in the mirror. They had accidentally been encouraging each other.

 

Stiles felt like he was in a dream of some kind. He watched, detached, as his pale arm reached out and pulled the shower curtain aside. Moving on instinct Stiles reached out with his mind and caught the other male’s mind with his own; coiling tighter and tighter around his consciousness until Stiles’ will dominated the other. Stiles heard himself purr as he saw the dilated eyes and content smile that graced the larger boy’s lips.

 

 _Mine_ , he thought, stepping into the stream and closing the curtain behind him. Stiles clumsily searched around the foreign consciousness until he discovered his name.

 

“Cameron,” he said, wetting his own lips as if the taste of how the name sounded would match the flavor of his catch. For his part Cameron’s smile grew wider, proud even, that his master knew his name. It pleased both of them.

 

Stiles shuddered as Cameron reached out to rub his hand down Stiles’ chest. He felt the energy trying to escape from Cameron’s hand into his own newly sculpted physique. Stiles groaned in frustration that he still couldn’t access that warmth. Remembering how his Sire had fed, Stiles used his mind to order Cameron to sit on the bench provided for handicapped students.

 

He wrapped his mouth around Cameron’s hard cock and swallowed him down. Stiles had never given a blow job before but like everything else today his instincts were in control. Throat muscles he’d never had before swallowed Cameron all the way to the root and began to vibrate against the sensitive head. Between Stiles’ new skill with deep-throating and the commands he was whispering through their psychic link, he had Cameron ejaculating within seconds.

 

Cameron looked down at Stiles with a question in his eyes. Stiles could hear it in his head even if Cameron didn’t have the control to open his mouth and ask it himself. Cameron was too stoned on Stiles’ pheromones to have any sense of fear or self-preservation. He knew his purpose was to feed Stiles and to be given the pleasure as a gift in return. Maybe if he hadn’t looked so much like Derek than Stiles could have stopped. Maybe if Stiles hadn’t been longing for Derek to the point of obsession than he might have had enough sense of self to pull back and beg forgiveness. Maybe if stealing Cameron’s life hadn’t felt so good than Stiles wouldn’t have leaned forward and taken him to the root again.

 

Judging by the near hysterical sounds of pleasure pouring out of Cameron’s mouth, the older boy wasn’t complaining about it. Being fed through his Sire had been stimulating enough but it was nothing compared to drinking from the source directly. Especially one that had never been touched by another succubus before. Suddenly Stiles knew why his kind didn’t like to share food. He could feel his mark being branded onto Cameron’s mind like a farmer would brand cattle. No other succubus would dare feed from him.

 

Cameron was _his_. His to feed on, his to take care of… his to kill if he wanted to. The power was intoxicating – addictive even – and Stiles couldn’t stop himself. He kept pushing his pheromones into Cameron and drinking down as much as he could, as fast as Cameron’s body could be forced into producing it. He kept sucking, nursing Cameron like a cow, until he felt the weight above him relaxing. Stiles could feel the legs around his head getting colder and limper.

 

Even that didn’t stop him.

 

His Sire grabbing him by his hair and yanking him backwards did though. His Sire’s supernatural strength had Stiles sliding across the tile floor before smashing into the far wall. Stiles and Cameron screamed as they felt the connection break. It was too sudden, too jarring for there not to be any pain. Stiles could feel the anger and disappoint his Sire was sending his way but it was nothing compared to the horror of realizing what he’d done; what his instincts had driven him to do.

 

Stiles watched Cameron’s face as he regained control of himself. Cameron’s handsome features may have been weakened from how much Stiles had drained of him but the look of terror was clear. Stiles slid down until he was flat on the ground in shock. H couldn’t take a breath. He hadn’t had a panic attack in almost a year. This was worse than any of his previous attacks. Stiles could have lived with what he’d done earlier; Eric and Tito had been consenting prey.

 

But Cameron hadn’t consented. He’d just been in the wrong place, at the wrong time, with the wrong monster. Stiles whimpered at the thought. The evidence was written in lines of fear all over Cameron’s – no, his _victim’s_ – face. No amount of good deeds would ever make up for what Stiles had done. No amount of penance could ever change what Stiles had become.

 

He was a monster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos keep me going!
> 
> As always, don't forget to check out my tumblr (moriartysminon.tumblr) for teasers and snippets.
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


	3. Meal Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. I'm juggling a lot of stories right now.
> 
> THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL OF THE WONDERFUL FEEDBACK. HUGS & KISSES TO ALL.

Stiles ran.

 

He wasn’t proud of it but Stiles wasn’t going to apologize for it either. He’d had one hell of a weekend. In just a few days Stiles had lost his virginity, nearly died doing so, been turned into some sort of sex monster and come dangerously close to killing another human being via blow job. It was a miracle he hadn’t cracked sooner.

 

So while his Sire was busy calming Cameron down, Stiles fled the bathroom and rushed back to the dorm room. Tito was still pretty blissed out but Eric was slowly blinking awake. Stiles packed quickly trying to remember everything he’d brought with him and weighing whether or not he could leave other things behind that he might not have time to pack.

 

He was just headed to the door when Eric’s nimble fingers slid up his shorts and caressed his thigh. The look on his face was an adorable mixture of sleep and desire. “What’s the rush? Don’t you want any dessert?”

 

Eric emphasized his offer by reaching down with his free hand and groping himself. Stiles bit his lip at the sight of precum dribbling down the engorged head. His stomach rumbled and Eric grinned, pleased with the effect he was having.

 

“Fuck. Aren’t I ever going to be full?” Stiles wondered, throwing the duffel bag over his shoulder. He ignored the disappointment on Eric’s face as he stepped towards the door and away from the frat boy’s fingers.

 

“Only ever seen your Master full once before,” Eric answered with a shrug. “It’s how we met actually. He was recruiting from my frat. Our whole pledge class fed him almost constantly over a long weekend until he finally said he was full.” He grinned at the memory. “Now that was a good time.”

 

Stiles only felt more horrified at the idea. His urge to flee now justified by panic, Stiles slipped out the door and booked it down the hallway. He bypassed the elevator and took the stairs two at a time. It wasn’t until he’d reached the bottom level that Stiles realized he wasn’t even winded nor had he tripped. When he was human Stiles had never met a staircase that hadn’t sent him crashing down to earth at least once.

 

His jeep was parked right where he had left it. Stiles unlocked his baby and climbed in, sparing a precious few seconds to slide his hand lovingly over the steering wheel. Just as the jeep noisily purred to life he felt a wave of emotions crash over him. Stiles knew instinctively that he was feeling his Sire’s loss at Stiles’ absence. He could feel the man’s grief – his desperate pleading for Stiles to come back – through their bond. The teenager looked up at the sea of dorm windows but couldn’t see through them thanks to the sun’s reflective glares.

 

There was a part of him that wanted to turn the engine off and march back inside. He wanted to throw himself into his Sire’s welcoming arms and cry and beg forgiveness. Stiles knew deep down that his Sire would forgive him – loved him even. He could feel it in their connection that even if Cameron had died, his Sire would have shielded Stiles from the backlash.

 

But that was why Stiles had to leave.

 

He didn’t want to be a monster. He didn’t want it to be okay that he accidentally murdered someone. Stiles wanted to be somewhere he could feel human again. He needed to curl up in his pajamas and eat caramel ice cream while watching TV with his dad. Stiles wanted Scott to crawl through his bedroom window and talk endlessly about how the universe revolved around Allison’s smile. He was desperate for a puppy pile that had his fingers curled in Isaac’s hair and Erica making him the little spoon.

 

Stiles wanted Derek to push him up against a wall or a tree and make him squeak nervously. His body vibrated at the prospect of filling Boyd’s characteristic silence with his own jibber jabber until the wolf’s thick muscles relaxed and actually started to join the conversation. Stiles looked forward to the insults Jackson would throw his way even though they both knew he was seconds away from cracking a smile.

 

His Sire couldn’t offer him the comfort of humanity the way his Pack could.

 

There was a flicker of some new sensation through his Sire-bond that had Stiles feeling calm. His Sire must have understood what he was thinking or feeling about Beacon Hills because all of a sudden Stiles was free of his master’s sadness. Instead Stiles was filled with understanding and the hope that Stiles would come back one day.

 

As he pulled out of the parking lot Stiles tried to focus on feeling grateful. His fear of turning into a thing like his Sire was momentarily outweighed by the need to reassure the creature. Stiles couldn’t help the way his mind and his body felt about the Succubus. His Sire was lonely and Stiles knew what that was like. But Stiles couldn’t stay and be family like his Sire wanted. The creature needed to find his own. Stiles already had people who filled that aching wound of loss and isolation.

 

And he was going back to them no matter what.

 

*

 

The trip back to Beacon Hills was over 8 hours, which gave Stiles plenty of time to think. For Stiles it was an odd experience being able to focus on one issue at a time. With the intensity of his ADHD significantly diminished, Stiles could take his time and work through exactly what he wanted and how to get it.

 

His main goal was to not kill anyone. Which, as far as goals went, he thought was pretty good. Even as Stiles mentally committed himself to that goal his stomach growled. He tried not to think of it as an omen. After all Stiles had always been unnaturally hungry as a human. His appetite rivaled that of the wolves after a full moon. Just because his appetite was for humans didn’t mean it wouldn’t be ravenous.

 

The second goal was to try and keep the whole Succubus thing a secret. Which sucked because Scott had at least lucked out to have Stiles and his badass research skills to lean on. Stiles would have to rely on himself to control his new abilities and instincts.

 

Stiles’ third priority was to get his affairs in order. He may have turned into a monster but that didn’t mean he had to be like Peter Hale. Stiles would starve to death before he took to killing. He’d run off and wait to die rather than put his Pack through the heartbreak of putting him down. If it came to that – if Stiles couldn’t master his instincts – then he needed to make sure that his father would survive; that his Pack would survive.

 

When he’d just passed the halfway point to Beacon Hills Stiles spotted a decent enough looking diner and pulled in. His jeep was precious to him but even Stiles knew she had her limits. It was better to give her a break now than have her break down later. He grabbed his tablet from the back and asked for a booth away from the other customers. The waitress gave him a cautious look before showing him to a booth by the restrooms.

 

Stiles whipped out the tablet and pulled up the PDF of Allison’s family’s bestiary. The Pack had gifted him a copy (fully translated by Lydia) after the dozens of times he’d had to research whatever evil beasty had decided to attack Beacon Hills that month. Stiles, with a little help from Dr. Deaton, had slowly started to create an index for the bestiary to make referencing more efficient.

 

He flipped through the electronic pages until he reached the sections that he hadn’t gotten to go through yet. Stiles knew that he hadn’t read about Succubi or Incubi yet which meant they had to be in those unopened sections or not included at all. Just when Stiles started to think the Argents had never come across one of his kind before, he finally found what he was looking for.

 

None of it was comforting.

 

Apparently his Sire hadn’t been joking about Succubi being a completely different species. Unlike werewolves, who maintained their human form with wolf-like enhancements, Succubi only _appeared_ human. There were too many physiological changes to classify sex demons as even remotely human. Stiles was now the not-so-proud owner of a dozen new pheromone producing glands and several organs designed for the digestion and storage of “human essence”.

 

Oh, yeah, and his eyes turned a different color when he tried to use his new mind-magic skills. The Argents had noted with a chillingly detached tone that Succubi most likely developed the trick with the eyes as an evolutionary necessity to get prey to make eye contact with them. Stiles recalled his Sire saying that humans would be entranced by his eyes but had failed to mention why that part was necessary. If Stiles ever ran into his Sire again there would be some serious criticism of his teaching skills.

 

The starving to death thing was – sadly – also true. Succubi were notoriously difficult to kill since the life forces they fed upon allowed them to heal so quickly. The Argents had put down two Incubi in their history and both had been killed through forced starvation. Gerard had killed one of the two. The man had used the sex demon’s enhanced healing to dissect the thing over and over again for research. Stiles felt ill as he realized that the majority of the knowledge he was gaining from the bestiary most likely came as a direct result of that “research”.

 

Stiles learned the hard way that he no longer had an appetite for regular food. The bacon double cheeseburger he’d ordered tasted terrible. He could barely drink his milkshake – which sucked because Stiles was a life long milkshake enthusiast – before running to the bathroom and puking it all up. Stiles would have preferred the Argents explain that humans were the exclusive food source for Succubi at the beginning of the passage and not the end. It would have saved him some serious vomiting time.

 

There were two upsides to his stop at the roadside diner. The first one was the waitress thinking they’d given him some kind of food poisoning and not charging him for the meal. The second was a brief reference to Succubi being able to feed on arousal without making sexual content. It wasn’t their preferred method (something about not enough nutrition) but in Stiles’ mind that just meant he’d have to feed more often. If he didn’t have to make sexual contact then Stiles was pretty sure he could feed without risking someone else’s life. The real problem was trying to find a place with enough arousal to pull from to make up for not feeding directly from the source.

 

Satisfied that he had the beginnings of a workable plan, Stiles tipped the waitress and headed back out onto the road.

 

*

 

His Dad was waiting for him in the driveway. The man had just enough time to wave hello before Stiles was out of the jeep and pulling him into a hug. The Sheriff froze in surprise before relaxing into the embrace. Stilinski’s were nothing if not skilled huggers. It was after they’d been glued together for a few beats too long that his father started not so subtly checking him over for injuries.

 

“You okay, son?”

 

Stiles nodded into his father’s plaid covered shoulder. He hated that he could literally sense the worry wafting from his father now. “It’s just been a really long weekend.”

 

“Believe me, kid, I know it.” The Sheriff drew out of the hug and cupped his son’s cheeks, looking him in the eyes and studying him. “There’s something… I don’t know _different_ about you.”

 

Stiles tried not to fidget too badly. He failed.

 

“Did you get taller?” his father asked finally.

 

“The college had posturepedic mattresses,” Stiles lied pathetically. His Sire had taught him the basics of how to control his body so that it wouldn’t betray his lies to werewolves. Now Stiles wished he’d just asked how to lie convincingly. Clearly they had missed a rather obvious step. “They really straightened out that whole spine curving business I had going on. You always did say I slouched too much. I guess you were right after all.”

 

The Sheriff rolled his eyes. “Too bad they can’t do anything about your word vomit.”

 

Stiles recoiled in mock offense. “Are you trying to say that I talk too much? I’m hurt, sir.” He dramatically clutched at his heart. “Wounded right _here_ that my own father could say such a thing.”

 

“That’s it. Get in the car I’m taking you back. They’ll take you this early, won’t they?” his father joked. “Early admission and all that.”

 

“You’re not funny,” Stiles griped as he took his belongings out of the backseat. “I don’t know why you bother.”

 

The Sheriff huffed fondly behind him. “You know I’m elected to my position, right? That means people like me. So my jokes can’t be that bad.”

 

“You’re elected to be the disciplinarian of the town,” Stiles corrected as they entered the home. Already the tension in his shoulders was starting to fade at the familiar setting. “They don’t vote you in because you’re nice. They vote for you to be a hard ass.”

 

“Clearly they don’t know me all that well seeing as I let you get away with murder.”

 

Stiles flinched at the man’s word choice. An image of Cameron cowering into the furthest corner of the shower stall flashed through his mind. He rubbed tiredly at his eyes until flashes of white wiped the vision away. Stiles steadied his breathing to calm himself just like his Sire had taught him.

 

If the Sheriff noticed the sudden shift in mood, he chose not to comment on it. “I know it’s late but I’ve got dinner in the oven.”

 

“Ugh,” Stiles moaned, ready to barf at the idea of eating human food so soon after the earlier disaster at the diner.

 

“Don’t worry, I didn’t make it.” His father sported a little frown at Stiles’ apparent dislike of his culinary skills. “Melissa dropped it off when she picked up Scott. She said you’d probably want a home cooked meal after eating cafeteria food all weekend.”

 

Stiles decided to focus his attention on the only part of his Dad’s commentary that wasn’t about food. “Scott was here?”

 

A faint blush rose up around the Sheriff’s neck. “Um, yes, he was. I wasn’t going to mention it until after you’d gotten some sleep but we really need to talk about some of the more… _unique_ behavior your friends have been demonstrating lately.”

 

“What behavior?” Stiles asked as his stomach started somersaulting for a whole new reason. He started a mental prayer that his dad hadn’t seen Scott wolf out.

 

The blush grew to encompass his father’s cheeks as well. “I know you boys have always been close but does Scott really need to sleep in your bed when you aren’t there?” The man frowned as a new thought occurred to him. “Or when you _are_ there for that matter.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah, I’m gonna need a bit more than that.”

 

Stiles floundered around for an excuse but couldn’t think of any besides the truth or Scott having big gay feelings for him. While amusing, Stiles didn’t need the fallout of his Dad and Mrs. McCall thinking Scott was crushing on him. Stiles wasn’t sure if their parents would make them separate or try to reverse parent trap them. Either way it wasn’t an idea worth pursuing.

 

“What did Scott say about it?” Stiles asked eventually.

 

“Something about running out of cologne and how he was trying to rub some of yours off on him by sleeping in your sheets,” the Sheriff replied with a smirk that demonstrated how pitiful the excuse was. “I knew Dr. Deaton wasn’t throwing money at him but I didn’t think he was that cheap.”

 

Stiles face-palmed hard. “My best friend, ladies and gentlemen.”

 

His father chuckled. “I’d think something was going on between the two of you – not that there’s anything wrong with that – but I happened to catch a few more classmates in there over the weekend as well.”

 

“Oh god.”

 

“And here I didn’t think you and that Martin girl were ever going to work out except for in your fantasies. But the two of you must be very happy together if she’s using our shower.”

 

“Someone kill me.”

 

“The big one, Boyd, said he’d left a notebook here that he needed for class,” his father continued mercilessly enjoying his son’s obvious discomfort. “Why he thought it was under your pillow, or why it took him about the length of time of a nap to search there, I’ll never know.”

 

Stiles mimed hanging himself. He silently cursed werewolves and their damn need to scent-mark everything from their territory to their token human.

 

“I’m pretty sure I caught Erica Reyes climbing down the drainpipe Saturday morning, too.” His father tapped a finger against his chin in thought. “It’s just so hard to tell which half-naked blonde girl is running from our house and towards the woods these days.”

 

“Please stop.”

 

Despite his teasing tone, the Sheriff shifted awkwardly in front of the refrigerator. His eyes catalogued every embarrassed reaction from Stiles. “Please tell me that you aren’t really in a cult that promotes polyamory, son? Because I know I joked about it when you kids all started hanging around Derek Hale but now I have to question just how far off I am from the truth.”

 

“Far!” Stiles cried. That his voice cracked just added to his already record breaking level of humiliation. “Like you’re Sarah Palin and the truth is Russia level of far; you think you can see it but there’s no way in hell.” He collapsed into the nearest chair. “I swear to God there are no orgies going on. Believe me if I was getting laid that much there would be a full page ad in the newspaper and I’d have the tally tattooed across my forehead.”

 

It was a total coincidence if Stiles happened to omit that he’d sexed up four different guys in the previous 72 hours. What his father didn’t know wouldn’t get Stiles fitted for a male chastity belt.

 

“I figured as much,” the Sheriff claimed even though his relieved expression said differently. “So is there an answer for why your classmates have taken to treating your bed like a timeshare? Preferably one that won’t scar me for life?”

 

Stiles sighed in defeat. “No. At least none that would make any sense.”

 

His father nodded as if that was what he’d expected to hear. “One day you’re going to tell me what the hell is going on with you, right? There’s only so much I can willfully ignore before I drag you into an interrogation room and torture it out of you.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Good,” the man replied, satisfied for the moment. “Tell your friends to use the front door from now on. The last thing I need is a lawsuit because they fell and broke their necks trying to scale my house. And from now on there’s going to be a Stiles-only occupancy limit on that bed.”

 

Stiles nodded as if he had any intentions of following those rules. Which he didn’t. The last time he’d tried to stop Scott from cuddling with him, he’d ended up getting yelled at by Allison of all people for making her boyfriend mope. For the first time Stiles had seen some of Allison’s mother in her. He’d made a mental note that Scott’s girlfriend was scary as hell when angry.

 

Besides Stiles secretly liked being the human filling in a werewolf cuddle sandwich. Sure it got a little warm when everyone joined in but Stiles didn’t mind. He’d always been a tactile person and no one at school had ever let him express that side of him. Well… at least they hadn’t since that time Stiles had tackle-hugged Coach after a game and been sent to the principle for a lecture on inappropriate teacher-student relationships.

 

“Excellent. Now let’s eat.”

 

Stiles’ stomach twisted at the thought.

 

*

 

As it turned out Stiles didn’t have to look very far to find an abundance of arousal. He’d forgotten that being a teenager meant you were automatically a human-shaped ball of sex just waiting to be played with. Which meant the high school was practically bathed in hormones and lust. It was so thick that he could smell it the moment he’d stepped out of his jeep.

 

And it smelled really good.

 

It was even stronger once Stiles opened the double doors and crossed the threshold of the school. Stiles focused on his breathing as he desperately tried to calm himself the way his Sire had taught him in their fleeting time together. He wondered briefly if it was this stressful for the wolves too. Stiles slowly shuffled down the hallways towards his locker, subtly taking big gulps of his classmate’s horny clouds and hoped his eyes weren’t changing colors or anything.

 

“Hey, Stiles!”

 

Stiles turned, already waving, but the return greeting died in his throat. He’d expected Scott or one of the others from the Pack to have been the one calling out to him. Instead it was a girl – a really pretty one – who he’d never spoken to before in his life. His stomach grumbled at the wave of arousal she was sending his way before he hastened to put as much distance between them as possible.

 

It wasn’t the last time another student glanced his way, their arousal giving away the dirty thoughts they were having of him. Stiles ignored them the best he could as he practically sprinted to the boy’s locker room. He stepped in front of the mirror and frowned down at his outfit.

 

Stiles had spent a good portion of the morning picking out his baggiest clothes. He should have had plenty to choose from but his new body build had filled out the extra material pretty nicely. The boost in height had raised his jeans off the floor giving off a tighter look than he’d been going for when Stiles had first purchased them.

 

As he continued to check himself out in the mirror, Stiles couldn’t help but think that he didn’t look all that different. Especially not enough to warrant all of that gawking. The only truly obvious change was in his face. The loss of baby fat had him looking slightly older, slightly more masculine. And, yeah, his cheekbones were really framing his eyes in a way that might be considered attractive. Stiles didn’t know brown came in such a vibrant shade.

 

 _Fuck_ , he thought. _I’m hot._

 

Never in his life had Stiles imagined that being such a bad thing. And it wasn’t like Stiles was ungrateful or anything. There were clearly worse things in life. He just didn’t want his transformation to be as obvious as Isaac or Erica’s (especially Erica’s) had been. Stiles would much rather go the subtle route, like Scott and Boyd had, where Stiles didn’t strut around the hallways in slow motion as if he were on a runway in a music video with wind being strategically blown in his face.

 

Stiles cursed loudly as the warning bell rang.

 

He barely made it to English on time. More than one head turned in his direction as Stiles practically ran into his teacher. Unlike most days, his classmates didn’t immediately dismiss his clumsiness and return to their conversations. Nope, Stiles was met with several admiring stares and a fresh wave of arousal. What really had him worried were the twin looks of shock from the back row where Isaac and Erica always shared a desk. Lydia was staring at him with a look that fell firmly into the calculating category.

 

Luckily Scott had saved him a seat and Scott was nothing if not oblivious. He didn’t look at Stiles with anything other than a happy grin. Stiles grinned back, not saying a word when Scott subtly rubbed their sides together. There were only so many times one could complain about their pack mates scent marking them in public. Stiles had long ago given up hope that they’d respect personal boundaries.

 

“How was your trip?” Scott whispered once the teacher had turned away to write on the chalkboard.

 

Stiles shrugged and focused on keeping his breathing smooth and steady. “I went to a few frat parties.”

 

Scott sniffed at his friend’s shoulder and frowned. “You smell funny.”

 

“Wow, Scott, is that the kind of flattery that convinced Allison to go on a date with you?” Stiles snarked, faking a laughing fit to cover his nervous heartbeat.

 

“Sorry.” Stiles nearly laughed for real at the way Scott’s nose scrunched up in a mixture of embarrassment and frustration. He really was a big puppy sometimes. “It’s just… you don’t smell like Pack anymore. Which should smell bad but…”

 

Stiles’ eyebrows rose. “But what?”

 

Scott leaned forward and took a completely obvious whiff of his best friend’s scent. “It kind of smells good? I mean, my wolf doesn’t like it but I think it smells nice.”

 

“The dosage on my meds is a lot lower now,” Stiles half-lied. Technically he had just stopped taking them. It wasn’t Stiles’ fault if Scott just assumed it was on the order of medical professionals. “Derek always said I smelled bad when I doubled up on them. Maybe your wolf likes that I don’t smell like medication anymore but not that I smell different?”

 

“Yeah, totally,” Scott agreed, sitting back in his chair. A sheepish smile played at the edges of his lips. “That makes more sense than... well… never mind.”

 

Eager to change the subject Stiles quickly turned the tables on his friend. “So my dad said you were getting busy in my bed while I was gone. Please tell me that you and Allison didn’t do the nasty on my sheets? Because it’d be great if I only have to do a load of wash and not burn them.”

 

Scott’s face did a fairly good impression of a tomato. His eyes darted across the room to see if anyone was looking at them. “Dude! Maybe wait for some privacy before saying stuff like that.”

 

“So you didn’t sex up my sheets with Allison?” Stiles pressed in mock-confusion. “Ew, dude, did you have some personal time with your hand in my bed?”

 

“NO!” Scott hissed a little too loudly.

 

“Is there a problem, Mr. McCall?” their teacher asked from the front of the room. Her hands were on her hips and her lips were pursed in displeasure. Scott shook his head and muttered an apology. As soon as she turned back to continue writing on the chalkboard, Scott punched Stiles in the arm. Stiles bit back a gasp at the force behind the assault. Both boys could hear their pack mates giggling at their antics from the back of the room.

 

Scott groaned and let his head fall to the desk with a soft thump. “Great. They’re never going to stop teasing me about this.”

 

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Stiles replied, sending a teasing smirk in Erica and Isaac’s direction. He knew they’d be listening in on the conversation. “My father may have mentioned a few other people stopping by to get comfortable in my bed.”

 

Erica’s mouth shut so fast that her teeth smacked together with a hard click. Isaac froze, suddenly looking anywhere but at Stiles. To her credit, Lydia stared back at Stiles in a clear challenge as if daring him to say he didn’t like it.

 

Stiles just grinned at them with his newly perfected smile. Some may even have called it down right _wolfish_.

 

*

 

He made it all the way to lunch without being interrogated. Stiles made sure to grab a seat next to Scott or Greenberg, neither of whom were aware enough of him to see anything was different. The only exception had been sitting with Jackson in Physics since Stiles knew the other teen didn’t give enough of a shit to ask even if he _had_ noticed something was up. They’d made a lot of progress in their friendship but anything beyond not hating each other was always tentative.

 

Of course by the time lunch rolled around word had gotten out among the Pack that something was wrong with him. Stiles had delayed going to the cafeteria as long as he could. He’d hoped to catch the Pack already at a table and nearly done with their meals. The longer he kept distance between himself and them, the more time Stiles had to get a better grip on his new abilities.

 

But fate had never been kind to Stiles. Which is how he found himself cornered by his Pack on the way to the cafeteria. By the looks of it none of them had eaten. Instead they’d been waiting to trap him.

 

Erica slipped an arm around his shoulders and steered him away from the lunch room. “I think we all need to have a little chat.”

 

“And we can’t do that in the cafeteria?” Stiles asked, unsuccessfully pulling at her iron grip. “You know, where there are witnesses and such.”

 

“Maybe if you hadn’t been avoiding us earlier,” Lydia replied with a smile so sweet it could only be a promise of bad, bad things to come. “But you did. So now we’re doing this where you can’t weasel out of it.”

 

“Is this really necessary?” Scott asked nervously.

 

 _Yes!_ Stiles thought excitedly. _You tell them, buddy. Use your badass Head Beta powers to make them submit._

 

“I think they’re right, Scott,” Allison said gently. “It’s better this way.”

 

 _No!_ Stiles screamed internally. _Damn it, Scott. For once in your life think with your head and not your cock. Think of your bestie. Think of how much you don’t want to feed him to Derek’s sometimes psycho Betas._

 

Scott hesitated before nodding along. “I guess so.”

 

“I’m getting a new best friend!” Stiles scowled over his shoulder. “Greenberg wasn’t terrible to sit next to. And there’s no way _he’s_ getting a girlfriend so I’ll never have to feel this betrayal again.”

 

Danny laughed. “Relax, Stiles. We’re almost there.”

 

Stiles huffed as they rounded the corridor that led to the pool. The smell of chlorine was increasing with every foot Erica dragged him. “And you’re supposed to be the nice one.”

 

The finger Danny showed him said otherwise.

 

“I think Allison’s the nice one,” Scott added dreamily.

 

“New. Best. Friend.”

 

Scott let out a low, distressed whine at the threat.

 

Stiles grunted as Erica used him to push open the double doors to the pool. A quick look around and Stiles understood why they’d chosen to take him there. It was abandoned at this time of day since budget cuts had meant lifeguards were only being paid to work part time. Technically the school should lock the place up for safety but budget cuts had also tended to the security staff as well. Not that any of the wolves couldn’t have just sliced through any locks with one well placed claw.

 

“You ready, Stiles?” Erica asked, way too many teeth on display in an intimidating grin.

 

“Just take it like a man, Stilinski,” Boyd added, muscles tensing.

 

Stiles had a moment where a very real tremor of fear rolled through him in the seconds before they pounced. Erica was on him first, grip tight as she pulled him flush against him. Then Boyd and Isaac were grabbing his flailing limbs and tugging on him as if he was a chew toy they were fighting over. It wasn’t until Scott freaking ran and tackled the group that they all collapsed onto the hard deck floor.

 

Lydia waited for all the flailing to end before crawling across the top of the puppy pile with the nimbleness of a cat or, you know, a she-wolf. Stiles’ eyes flew wide open as she literally yanked his head up and into her bosom. Jackson waited a few minutes – purely for the sake of posturing – before finding a free spot near his feet and rubbing himself against it. Danny looked amused while Allison snapped a few photos for what she kept claiming was a pack photo album but Stiles was starting to suspect was for future blackmailing purposes.

 

“Seriously with all the scent marking?” Stiles asked, trying to sound incredulous but his fondness bled through anyway. “Even my dad is starting to notice how touchy-feely we all are.”

 

“You were gone too long,” Isaac said quietly from somewhere on his left.

 

Scott grunted in agreement. “Seriously, dude, you didn’t smell like pack at all.”

 

Jackson’s hand tightened on Stiles’ ankle, presumably to highlight just how disconcerting it was before letting go. Through her blouse, Stiles could hear how Lydia’s heart pounded just a little faster at the thought. Normally Stiles would have kept a running commentary going until someone distracted him. Normally Stiles would get overheated and start squirming uncomfortably. Normally Stiles would be trying desperately to not get a boner.

 

This time was different. Stiles had been filled with so much anxiety he’d barely slept the night before. Being in the center of the pack pile, literally surrounded by the comfort and love of his friends, was releasing that not-so-little ball of tension he’d been trying to keep buried. Stiles didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to keep his secret, didn’t know if he’d even be welcome to join in this again once they knew. For all Stiles knew this was the last time they’d treat him like this.

 

“Stiles?”

 

“I’m fine, Isaac.”

 

Scott fidgeted. “You smell really sad, dude.”

 

“I’ll _be_ fine.”

 

“Is it the adderall?” Lydia asked.

 

Jackson narrowed his eyes at his on-and-off girlfriend. “Please tell me those quacks aren’t messing with his doses again? I can’t take any more of his mouth.”

 

Danny rolled his eyes. “Nice, Jacks. Real nice.”

 

“I don’t care if he does talk more,” Erica admitted before stealing Stiles’ head away from Lydia and taking a big whiff of his hair. “He smells so much better without all of that shit anyway.”

 

“I’m starting to get a complex about how I smelled before,” Stiles muttered into Erica’s stomach.

 

Boyd’s nose pressed into his side. “Smells really good actually.”

 

Allison giggled from her spot by the door where she was keeping a look out. “He looks better too.”

 

“What’s with that anyway?” Isaac asked. “I thought Derek had turned you or something.”

 

Danny nodded. “So did I.”

 

Stiles couldn’t help but free himself from Erica and Lydia’s clutches to waggle his eyebrows at Danny. “Does that mean you finally find me attractive, Danny boy?”

 

Even Jackson chuckled.

 

“I’ll give it to you, Stilinski,” Danny replied with a teasing grin. “Whatever makeover show you got on really worked a miracle. I’ll be sure to tune in and watch your episode.”

 

“You are so not the nice one,” Stiles said before sticking his tongue out at him. His nose twitched as the smell of pineapple leaked out across the pool deck. It takes Stiles a minute or so to realize that it was the smell of Danny’s arousal. He pulled his tongue back in and the pineapple smell diminished slightly.

 

 _Huh,_ Stiles thinks as Danny meets his eyes before looking away. _When did that happen?_

 

Stiles felt his stomach clench tight. His instincts screamed at him to track that smell and devour it. His mouth watered at the prospect of wrapping his lips around his tan friend and coax that pineapple flavor out of Danny again and again until he’s writhing in pleasure and begging Stiles to take him all the way. Horrified at the mental image, Stiles ruthlessly smothered the urge and turned his attention back to the others who had apparently kept the conversation going while he was distracted.

 

“Have you always been this well muscled?” Erica asked, shifting her ass around on his chest as if trying to flatten out a cushion. “I’m pretty sure I remember you as softer. Like a really nice pillow.”

 

Scott’s head popped up around Stiles’ shoulder long enough to frown at him. “I told you girls would like you more if you didn’t wear such baggy clothes. Didn’t you ever notice how many girls talk to you at the pool parties where you didn’t wear a shirt in the water?”

 

“Alright now I’ve definitely got an image complex. Congratulations, guys, I’m sending you the therapy bills,” Stiles huffed. “Can we please stop talking about my body now?”

 

Lydia lightly smacked the top of his head like one would reprimand an unruly child. “Next time don’t stay away for so long and we won’t have to go through this.”

 

Scott pinched his elbow. “And don’t ignore our phone calls.”

 

“Or text messages,” Allison adds, eyes narrowed in a pretty clear warning.

 

Jackson smacked his leg hard enough to leave a bruise. Stiles frowned in his general direction when he didn’t hear a complaint. Sensing the confusion Jackson smacked the other leg before shrugging. “I just felt like hitting him.”

 

Stiles decided it was best to just ignore the other male’s Neanderthal ways and continue feigning ignorance. He figured there’d be no better test of his skills at deceiving the werewolves than when he was at the center of a puppy pile. All things considered Stiles thought he’d been doing pretty well so far. “I go away for one measly weekend and you act like it was years or something.”

 

“It’s not your fault,” Allison said, deciding to take pity on him and clue him in finally. “Well not completely your fault. They were on edge all weekend about you having too good a time at college and not wanting to come back.”

 

“Add with how everyone at school is paying you all that attention…” Danny trailed off, raising his eyebrows pointedly.

 

“Awww!” Stiles cooed before smirking at the wolves who were pointedly looking away from him and glaring in the direction of the humans who had ratted them out. “You sweet, insecure, jealous fur balls that I call my friends are the best!”

 

Jackson’s eyes flashed amber in irritation. “You see what you two did? Now he’s never going to shut up about it.”

 

“It’s ok, Jackson, we’ve long suspected you have actual feelings,” Stiles teased.

 

“Shut. Up.”

 

*

 

Lacrosse practice goes without incident. It’s truly a testament to Stiles’ will power that it does so. Not because the Succubus inside wants him to tackle the players and sex them to death… though that urge was certainly there. But rather because Stiles has spent his entire high school on the bench, playing second fiddle to all of his peers and now he _finally_ has the ability to show them up.

 

And Stiles _really_ wants to show off. He’s not proud of it. But Stiles is nothing if not the smart one in the group. For every piece of his ego that wants to be first line there’s a voice in Stiles’ head that whispers warnings about how it would endanger his precious plan. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t burn with envy at how Scott and Jackson maneuver the ball across the field, passed the goalie and into the net again and again.

 

Stiles bites the inside of his mouth as he sits on the bench and listens to Coach shout praise for Isaac until he’s almost out of breath. It takes all his will power not to show off his new stamina and coordination every time the rest of the second string players stand up and cheer when Boyd takes someone down. But he knows better.

 

So Stiles sits on the bench and plays the weak human. He’s certainly had enough practice at it over the years.

 

*

 

Changing in the locker rooms post-practice is a different story. One that Stiles wishes he’d thought of beforehand.

 

He’d purposefully shown up late to practice so that he could get into his gear in peace. It wasn’t until _after_ practice and Coach had sent them packing that Stiles realized he’d made a mistake. He was drenched in sweat, his clothes were in there with the rest of the team and Stiles was completely out of excuses. By the time he pushed open the locker room door Stiles had lost control of his heart rate from the nerves alone.

 

That the locker room smelled like a buffet does not help keep him calm. Stiles couldn’t believe the amount of arousal running rampant through the room. He feared briefly for the sanity of his teammates that getting run ragged by Coach for a few hours had their bodies so tuned up and ready for sex. Either that or Danny wasn’t the only gay guy on the team.

 

Not wanting to tempt fate, Stiles bypassed the showers and headed straight for his locker. Most of the guys in his row were either washing up or already changed and gone. Stiles quickly removed his practice gear and shoved them into his locker. He started throwing his clothes on with a speed Stiles hadn’t used since he was a blushing freshman afraid of showing off his privates.

 

“What’s the rush, dude?” Scott asked, towel tied low on his hips.

 

Stiles jumped in surprise before quickly throwing on his shirt. “Dad’s got a whole thing planned for dinner tonight. With me being gone all weekend I just want to get as much quality bonding time in as possible, you know?”

 

Scott nodded quietly, turning into his locker and removing the towel. “Sounds nice.”

 

“Yeah,” Stiles said faintly, distracted by the trickle of water that traveled between his tan friend’s shoulder blades and into the crevasse of an ass he’d never really taken the time to appreciate. It was only the sad quality in Scott’s voice that prevented Stiles from leaning forward and tracing the watery path with his tongue. He’d never been so grateful for Scott’s daddy issues. “You could join if you want?”

 

“Nah, man, I’m just going to bring my mom some take-out at the hospital.” Scott finished tugging on his briefs before offering Stiles a soft smile. “Thanks, though. For everything.”

 

Stiles grinned winningly at him. “Anything for you, bud.”

 

Scott froze for a second, his eyes glued on his friend’s easy smile. Stiles nervously licked at his lips and watched as Scott’s eyes flashed amber. “You’re a really good friend, Stiles. Have I ever told you that?”

 

The smell of pizza – and really Stiles should have known his friend’s lust would smell like pizza to him – said that Scott wasn’t really thinking of him as just a friend in that moment. “Your _best_ friend,” Stiles replied pointedly.

 

“I wonder if you smelled this good when we were little?” Scott asked, looking a little glazed over as his eyes tracked down the thin t-shirt covering Stiles’ athletic frame. “You know, back when we used to have sleepovers all the time.” His body shuddered as he sucked in a harsh breath and a fresh wave of the pheromones Stiles was instinctively producing. “We should do more sleepovers.”

 

“We’re grown up now, Scott,” Stiles said nervously, taking a step back. He froze when Scott reached out with werewolf speed and latched onto his bicep. “You have sleepovers with Allison now remember?”

 

Scott’s nose flared and his thumb started moving against the skin at the edge of Stiles’ sleeve in long strokes. The whole thing was making Stiles crave a pizza; lots and lots of pizzas. “We should all have a sleepover together.”

 

The scent of pineapple hit Stiles’ nose. “What’s up, guys?”

 

The best friends sprung apart. Scott’s eyes faded back into his normal coloring though his cheeks were burning bright red. Stiles put a hand over his stomach as it growled in dismay. “What?” Stiles asked defensively at the concerned look his pack mates sent him. “You all made me miss lunch. I’m a growing boy who needs nourishment.”

 

“No arguments there,” Danny muttered, the smell of pineapple building once more.

 

Scott sent Danny a disturbed look having clearly detected the human’s arousal as well. He hurriedly pulled on the rest of his clothes. “I’m going to go now. I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow.” He hesitated at the door before turning back and offering Stiles a small, apologetic look. “Sorry about… you know.”

 

Stiles waved him off. “No problem.”

 

Danny waited until he was sure the werewolf was beyond supernatural hearing before raising an inquisitive eyebrow. “Did I walk in on what I think I walked in on?”

 

“How should I know what you think you walked in on?” Stiles deflected, babbling nervously as he finished packing up his gear. “You’re a smart boy and I hear you’re good at art. I’m sure you’ve got quite the imagination. It’s not my job to mind read whatever ridiculous farce your previously established phenomenal imagination came up with.”

 

“ _Stiles_.”

 

“Hey, can I ask you a favor?”

 

Danny paused at the sudden shift in conversation. His expression clearly said that he knew Stiles was changing the topic on purpose and that his less than subtle approach was not good enough to deter him. Nevertheless the Hawaiian teen nodded hesitantly. “Sure.”

 

“Yeah… see… I um…” Stiles fidgeted, suddenly unsure of how to phrase the request. It was part of his plan to recruit Danny’s expertise in all things gay social but now he couldn’t figure out how to actually _ask_ for it. “I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind taking me to that gay club? You know the one downtown where Jackson paralyzed a whole bunch of people? Well… not Jackson, I suppose. Just the creepy lizard monster inside of him before he got one with his inner-White Fang.”

 

Danny looked like he was clearly questioning the other boy’s sanity. “Yeah, Stiles, I’m pretty sure I’ll never forget that club or that night for as long as I live.”

 

Stiles grimaced. “Right. Of course. Sorry.”

 

“It’s ok,” Danny answered with a resigned sigh. “Is this because of your little thing with Scott just now? Because Jackson and I went through something similar when I first came out and…”

 

“What? NO!” Stiles interrupted before the rest of Danny’s statement filtered through his brain. “Wait. You and Jackson?”

 

Danny scowled at him before turning away. “Forget it.”

 

Stiles rushed to catch up, stumbling under the combined weight of his backpack and gym bag. “Wait, wait! I’m sorry. Please stop walking so fast? Pretty please? Danny!” He cursed as one of the bags swung too far over and sent him sprawling into the nearest wall. At least Danny had stopped in favor of checking him over for injuries.

 

“You have got to be the clumsiest guy I’ve ever met,” Danny said quietly, leaning down to join him on the floor.

 

“It’s a gift really.”

 

Danny merely rolled his eyes.

 

“I don’t have anyone else to talk to about this,” Stiles admitted quietly.

 

“Is it just the tension with Scott or is it something more?” Danny asked after a few minutes of pained silence.

 

Stiles sighed as he felt some of the tension leave him. “It’s definitely more. I mean that thing with Scott was awkward but nothing in the long run really.” He let out a little chuckle. “We all know how head over heels he is for Allison.”

 

Danny nodded in understanding. “Jackson developed a little crush on me after I first came out. He kept acting so weird that I thought he was creeped out by it. Like he was afraid I was going to jump him in the showers or something. Took me awhile to figure out what was really going on.” His fond smile at the memory was so bright that Stiles couldn’t help but return it. “It’s a best friend thing.”

 

Stiles knew it was really more of a Succubus-and-prey thing but didn’t have the heart to destroy their nice little bonding moment. Besides, it was a convenient excuse that Stiles didn’t have to lie about. “So about that club?”

 

“You really want to go?”

 

He nodded. “More than you could possibly know.”

 

Danny frowned at the enthusiasm. “Just what happened to you at that college tour, Stiles? Because last time we talked about this you were more than happy to hide in the closet.”

 

“Can’t a guy have a little character development?” Stiles asked with a tight smile. That conversation was not among his favorites. Danny had basically forced him to face the music about his sexuality. Thankfully he’d had the foresight and compassion to make sure they’d been alone for it.

 

“The truth, Stiles, or I’m not going to take you.”

 

Stiles grimaced. “I had a life changing experience.”

 

Danny stared at him for a long time before he finally broke out into a wide grin. “You got laid,” he accused, pointing his finger at him and everything. “Nice, dude. No wonder you’re so eager to get out there again.”

 

“So you’ll take me?” Stiles asked hopefully.

 

“Sure. We can go this weekend.”

 

“Tonight.”

 

Danny stared at him, eyes wide. “It’s Monday.”

 

Stiles stared right back at him. “Gay guys don’t go clubbing on Mondays? Is this going to be like a Mean Girls thing where I can’t wear things on certain days? Should I be taking notes?”

 

“Clubs don’t club on Mondays,” Danny corrected slowly as if Stiles were mentally unhinged. “I’m sure you can keep it in your pants until the weekend.”

 

His stomach growled. “I doubt it. Come on, man, there’s got to be something to do during the week. A party? A rave? Sex den or something?”

 

“Have you tried your right hand?” Danny joked, still looking horrified at how desperate Stiles was getting. The expression only intensified when Stiles continued to stare at him with no sign of breaking. “There are one or two places I can think of but I still think you should wait for the weekend. These are sort of advanced and you’re still a beginner, you know?”

 

Stiles just smiled sweetly at him. “Trust me. I can handle myself just fine.”

 

Danny shook his head. “No way. Scott would kill me if I let you run off and something happened. Or your Dad. Hell, Derek might even kill me.”

 

“What are you saying?”

 

“That I’m coming with you, of course.”

 

“Great!” Stiles replied with faux-cheer. Now all he had to do was figure out a way to feed with Danny watching him like the over-protective-big-gay-brother he never knew he needed. The only thing that could make it worse would be the whole Pack tagging along. “Oh god. You’re not going to tell the others are you? Because I don’t know if I can handle all that.”

 

Danny’s slid a well-muscled arm around Stiles’ shoulder in comfort. “I wouldn’t do that to you. It’ll just be the two of us until you’re ready to tell the others.”

 

“Thanks, Danny. You really are the nice one.”

 

“My pleasure, Stiles.”

 

The hallway reeked of pineapples.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to comment!


	4. When Your Eyes Are Bigger Than Your Stomach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Stiles loses control and Danny has surprisingly little problem with it. The strip club might have a few objections though.

Stiles loved his jeep. It was his big, T.A.R.D.I.S. blue, metal love child. Plus it was originally his mom’s so there’s no other vehicle in existence that could ever come out on top when compared to his baby.

 

But that doesn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate Danny’s ride. It wasn’t flashy like Jackson’s but it still had a decidedly sleek look. The leather seats were fun to bounce in and super comfortable. Stiles had to wonder how much it would cost to install seat warmers in his jeep because he honestly wasn’t sure how he was going to live without them in his life.

 

Danny only stopped Stiles’ incessant exploration of his sedan when he started messing with the radio. He smirked as he slapped Stiles’ outstretched hand. “Not even Jackson gets to fuck with my radio.”

 

“But it’s so shiny,” Stiles whined, rubbing the sting out of his skin. “It’s like a TV screen in your dashboard. It’s a TV screen you can _touch_.”

 

“Not unless you want to lose that hand,” Danny replied evenly, eyes never straying from the road in front of them.

 

Stiles crossed his arms in a huff and stared out the window. “So where are we going on our big gay escapade anyway?”

 

Danny rolled his eyes. “Stop making it sound like we’re on an Oprah special.” He took a second to watch Stiles’ fingers fidget along the sides of his seatbelt. “Did someone give you candy or something? Because we all agreed after the Zoo incident that only bad things happen when you get high on the sugar.”

 

“Nope. No candy.” Stiles giggled. “Though I could really go for some pineapples.”

 

“I’m not even going to ask,” Danny muttered. “Just try and calm down. You know, act like a normal human being.”

 

“Would if I could, my man. Would if I could.”

 

Stiles ignored the confused look Danny sent his way. Even Stiles could recognize how over exuberant he was being. He knew it couldn’t be his ADHD since the whole turning into a Succubus thing had pretty much nipped that in the butt. Unfortunately Stiles could only assume that his inner sex demon was really excited at the prospect of getting a proper meal. He’d barely been away from his Sire for 24 hours and the strength of his hunger was starting to get painfully uncomfortable.

 

“So where are we going tonight anyway?” Stiles asked after they’d passed another dozen exits in silence. “Besides a whole other state apparently.”

 

“You’re the one who just _had_ to go out on a Monday night,” Danny reminded him. “Don’t blame me if there aren’t a lot of places to party on what is basically the least entertaining night of the week.”

 

“But you did find a place,” Stiles said, confident in his friend’s party lifestyle. Danny might be quiet and kind at school but the kid usually dated guys much older and more experienced than himself. Jackson had even let it slip that Danny started going to clubs when he was 14 and printed his first fake ID. So, yeah, Stiles was pretty sure that Danny knew of all the good places to go for a sexy time.

 

Danny nodded. “There’s a strip club off Exit 2. Clientele is usually women but since Monday nights are slow they open it up to men as well.”

 

Stiles stared at him for a long moment before bursting out laughing. “We’re going to a strip club?”

 

“Um… yeah.” Danny gave him a look that clearly doubted his level of sanity. Stiles tried not to flinch at the sight. He hadn’t been subjected to that particular expression since Lydia had forced them all to sit together at lunch the day after Scott had been bitten.

 

“I’m sorry,” Stiles apologized, still grinning like a loon. “I phrased that wrong. Let me try again: WE’RE GOING TO A STRIP CLUB! Wahoo!”

 

The hacker flinched at the volume of his enthusiastic shouting. “That makes me wonder what you would have said to my second choice.”

 

Stiles titled his head, curious. “What was it?”

 

“Leather club,” Danny answered, grinning playfully. “A very private leather club.”

 

“You’re kidding right?”

 

Danny merely smirked and continued to stay focused on the road ahead.

 

“Right?”

 

*

 

The strip club was at the edge of one of the larger cities to the west of Beacon Hills. Despite Danny’s protests about Monday not being a popular party night they still ended up parking at the rear of the lot. Danny got out of the car and stripped off the button down and undershirt he was wearing before tossing them into the trunk. Stiles had a hard time keeping his eyes focused anywhere other than Danny’s muscular back. He licked his lips as Danny bent low to reach for a gym bag that had slid deeper into the trunk. It wasn’t until the tan teen shivered and turned around, nipples hard, that Stiles realized he’d been leaking some pheromones. He made a mental note to check the bestiary again on how to control that better.

 

Danny avoided Stiles’ gaze and quickly slid a dark blue t-shirt over his head. It did little to hide his body or the still perky nipples that looked ready to pop a hole through the thin material.

 

“What?” Danny asked, finally catching Stiles staring at him with his mouth open.

 

“I didn’t bring a change of clothes,” Stiles said quickly. He gestured shakily at how the simple change of tops had transformed Danny from road-trip-comfortable to take-me-up-on-my-jailbait-status.

 

Danny shrugged, neck and back muscles bulging pleasantly with the movement. “It’s a strip club, Stiles. It’ll be dark and none of the guys here will be hitting on you.”

 

Stiles pouted. “Then how come you wanted to change?”

 

“Because they might _actually_ hit on me,” Danny replied honestly.

 

He ignored Stiles’ series of outraged expressions in favor of locking the car and heading towards the strip club. Stiles rushed along after him like a duckling following its mother. Danny fished something out of his wallet. After a quick glance over a well-muscled shoulder, Stiles spotted the fake ID that allowed Danny to live his not so secret party life.

 

“Uh, Danny?” Stiles asked quietly as they joined the line of men and significantly fewer women waiting to get into the place. “I don’t have a fake ID.”

 

In a surprisingly good imitation of Derek, Danny managed to look murderous and incredulous at the same time. “Are you an idiot? How were you planning on getting into the club?”

 

Stiles held up his hands in a placating gesture. “In my defense you never told me where we were going.”

 

“I assumed you’d be intelligent enough to bring your fake ID with you,” Danny bit out through clenched teeth.

 

“I don’t have a fake. Like at all,” Stiles confessed.

 

Danny leveled him with a glare. “Uh… yeah, you do. How else did you get into _The Jungle_ that night Jackson attacked the club?”

 

Stiles shrugged. “Scott used his wolfy powers to break open the back door for us.”

 

“Well I hate to break it to you but neither of us are supernatural creatures,” Danny snapped. He turned back around to see the shrinking number of patrons between them and the intimidating bouncer checking IDs. “Shit. You better just go wait in the car.”

 

“You’d go in there without me?”

 

Danny turned again, this time to cuff Stiles around the back of his head. “I didn’t drive all this way just to go back home. It’s your own damn fault if you have to wait for me.”

 

Stiles nodded. “I get it, dude. Don’t worry, I’ll think of something. I’m an excellent talker remember?”

 

“Just try not to get us banned,” Danny pleaded, whispering now that they’d entered hearing range of the bouncer. “I’d actually like to be able to come back one day.”

 

“Oh ye of little faith. Why do you people continue to underestimate the awesomeness that is Stiles Stilinski?”

 

Danny snatched the ID out of his hand and slipped it underneath his. “Congratulations, Stiles, you’ve officially frightened me into not letting you move forward with whatever ridiculous plan you think you can pull off. Just let me take care of it.”

 

Being so close to the bouncer Stiles had to settle for flailing his indignation instead of voicing it. He snapped his arms back to his sides after Danny shot a warning look over his shoulder. The bouncer nodded at Danny in a familiar enough way that had Stiles doubting Danny had told the truth about how frequently the other teen attended the Monday night performances. He barely glanced at Danny’s ID before flipping to the one hidden slightly underneath. Stiles could see Danny’s back muscles tense through the tight material of his shirt.

 

“Bit young for you isn’t he?” the bouncer asked, stretching his neck to see Stiles from where he was trying to hide behind Danny. “Almost old enough for fun but just too young for it tonight.”

 

“Come on, man,” Danny pleaded, offering his most endearing smile. That he also uncrossed his arms to flash his impressive chest and stomach didn’t go unnoticed by the bouncer. “He’s a friend. He won’t make any trouble.”

 

The bouncer held out the IDs. “Sorry. Just can’t do it.”

 

Contrary to Danny’s threats to leave Stiles behind, the teen took back both IDs and stepped out of line. “Yeah, I get it.”

 

Stiles surged forward and filled the space Danny had just vacated. Stiles felt bad that he’d ruined Danny’s night when the other teen had just been trying to help him out. His stomach was twisting and turning at the prospect of another 24 hours with no sustenance but the quick whiffs of teenage arousal. With both his human and Succubus sides in perfect agreement, it was only too easy to channel his new abilities and solve all of their problems.

 

“Can’t you make an exception?” Stiles asked, smiling innocently at the bouncer. To the humans around him it only appeared as if some underage twink was trying to play up the cute look to get his way. What the humans couldn’t detect was the cloud of persuasive pheromones assaulting the bouncer or the way Stiles’ mind was latching onto the older man’s.

 

The bouncer shifted in his chair as an unexpected erection made itself known in a fairly uncomfortable way. “Well… I don’t know…”

 

Stiles’ smile turned predatory as he stepped closer and wrapped his fingers delicately but firmly around the bouncer’s wrist. The direct contact made the man’s mind an open book. “Don’t you though? Know what it would mean to me? How happy it would make me?”

 

“I…” The man’s eyes were practically black, eyes dilated with the way Stiles was flooding him with hormones.

 

“You want to make me happy,” Stiles continued sounding and feeling more confident that his Sire had at least trained him to use this _one_ skill efficiently. The bouncer had definitely been hired because of his complete lack of interest in men, which, yeah, would normally have kept him from being persuaded. But no one else in the line had the ability to press that lovely little pleasure button in the man’s brain. “Because when I’m happy, everyone has a happy ending, too. Don’t you want a happy ending?”

 

_“God yes.”_

 

Stiles pulled his hand back and grinned triumphantly. “Great! Thanks, dude.”

 

Danny was too stunned to do anything but stare numbly at the back of Stiles’ head as he was dragged into the building by the exuberant teen. Stiles laughed as he finally caught sight of the computer wiz’s expression.

 

“What?” he asked in mock indignation. “Like you’ve never flirted with an older dude to get your way. You forget that I’ve seen your moves, Mahealani.”

 

“Yeah and apparently I haven’t seen all of yours,” Danny muttered. His stare became less incredulous as it took on a more appraising one. His tongue flicked out to wet the plush of his lips while Danny’s gaze swept over him. Stiles jumped as Danny’s hand landed on his shoulder and started steering the pair of them deeper into the club. Stiles did his best to ignore how warm his body felt under the firm direction of Danny’s strong fingers.

 

The one thing Stiles flat out could not ignore was the smell of pineapple. With only the double layer of cotton between their skin, Stiles could practically taste the tangy flavor of the fruit in his mouth. Thankfully they’d crossed into the showroom just in time for the loud music to cover up the loud, starved groan of his stomach.

 

 _I will not eat Danny_ , Stiles began mentally chanting. _I will not eat Danny. I will not eat Danny… no matter how tasty he looks. Nope. Not going to happen. Nope with a big side order of nope fries._

 

“Hey, you okay?”

 

_Damn it! Of course Danny would have to be all concerned and breathy._

 

“I’m fine,” Stiles said, shrugging off the nimble fingers that were squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. “Oh look! A table!”

 

Danny let out a surprised grunt as he was pushed into one of the open seats. Stiles took the seat next to him and tried to look as if he wasn’t panicking. Which turned out to be a more difficult challenge than he’d thought when a bright orange thong trapped between two firm ass cheeks wiggled in front of his face. Stiles tried to fight off his embarrassed blush as he realized he’d mistaken one of the performing platforms as a table.

 

Danny laughed at the red tint to his friend’s complexion. “Pretty bold seat choice for a first timer.”

 

“Shut up,” Stiles muttered, struggling not to look at the ass still waving invitingly at him.

 

“I think he wants you to give him a tip.”

 

Stiles’ blush only intensified. His face took on a scandalized expression. “I only just met the man! I’m not touching him with my fingers let alone giving him the tip of my –”

 

“ – Jesus, Stiles, I meant money not your cock!”

 

“Oh. Right.”

 

Stiles fumbled for his wallet. His face was so hot that he was starting to feel dizzy. Stiles wondered if it was possible to get some sort of heat stroke from embarrassment because it certainly felt possible in that moment. He reached blindly into the wallet and grabbed the first bill he could find before thrusting it out at the gyrating ass.

 

Danny’s fingers slipped over his own. “Here let me help you with that.”

 

The stripper finally stopped his ridiculous movements so that Stiles’ money could be added to the others trapped between the orange thong and tanned skin. Stiles felt a spark when his fingers pressed into the material and he wasn’t the only one. Danny’s smile faltered slightly as he was apparently able to feel an echo of the connection while his nimble fingers were politely pulling the thong up for Stiles. As the recipient of the touch, the stripper definitely felt something. Judging by the shit-eating grin on the man’s face he’d enjoyed whatever power Stiles had instinctually sent pulsing over his ass.

 

“Weird static electricity,” Stiles covered lamely.

 

Danny nodded absently as if trying to convince himself.

 

“I’m going to get some change,” Stiles muttered, slipping out of his chair. He’d caught the distinct image of President Jackson on the money he’d hurriedly slipped into the stripper’s thong. Stiles couldn’t afford to spend money on that for a simple wiggle-wiggle-wiggle of the hindquarters.

 

His eyes had partially adjusted to the dimly lit audience area and the spotlights on the main stage compensated for the rest. Stiles slipped through the mesh of tables and even managed to dodge the men with trays of alcohol who wore long black ties and little else. The spastic teenager was really starting to dig the whole supernaturally coordinated thing; especially when it meant Stiles didn’t slip in suspicious fluids or have any spilled on him. It was quite the bonus when in a strip club.

 

Stiles laughed at the first ATM he’d ever seen that exclusively dished out singles. It was so terribly cliché and ridiculous that it took him a few minutes to stop giggling. None of the other patrons on their way to the bar or the bathroom seemed to find it as hilarious as Stiles did no matter how many times he tried to explain it. Only the presence of two security guards making their rounds through the lobby made Stiles stop his fit.

 

The two men merely poked their head into the men’s bathroom before ducking back out. Their amused smirks spoke volumes about the activities going on in the restroom. Not that Stiles needed to see their delight to know; especially not when Stiles could smell it. A bathroom shouldn’t smell so good or inviting.

 

But it did and Stiles had put off his inner Succubus for far too long to fight it. He’d never been a fan of gingerbread cookies but Stiles was more than willing to make an exception for whatever dude was reeking of them. They certainly smelled better than the ones that Gladys, the aging dispatcher at the Sheriff’s station, made them for Christmas every year. Perhaps it was just Gladys’ recipe?

 

Deciding there was really only one way to find out Stiles crossed the lobby and pushed the door to the men’s bathroom. Immediately the sounds of two people panting and moaning filled the room. The handicap stall door looked ready to break right off the hinges from the way it was being banged into again and again and again and again…

 

Stiles moved to the sinks and tried not to make it to obvious that he was listening in. There was no telling who else might walk in. Granted no one was going to think Stiles was breathing in the lust cloud from the handicapped stall and feasting on it. They’d just think Stiles was some kind of pervert.

 

 _Oh god,_ Stiles thought miserably. _When did people assuming he was a pervert become the preferable choice in ANY freaking situation? What is my life?_

 

Stiles shrugged the self-deprecating thoughts off with a shrug before focusing on what he’d come to the strip club for in the first place. He’d been pushing off his hunger by gorging himself on the steady levels of teenage arousal at his high school but it hadn’t really filled Stiles up yet. He could only hope that feeding on some proper lust that was generated by more than just horny daydreams would be more appetizing.

 

For the first time since practicing with his Sire Stiles consciously triggered a pheromone release. He tried not to think of himself as a human-shaped skunk but it certainly felt like that’s what he’d become. Especially with the big old cloud of sex hormones Stiles was letting loose.

 

At least the results were basically instantaneous. The moans from the handicapped stall nearly doubled in volume. The shadows under the door were thrusting harder and faster until they were a blur. The stall door might not have flown off the hinges but there was enough force applied to break the lock. Stiles leapt back so as to not get whacked in the face by the swinging door.

 

The couple didn’t seem to mind the property damage or the harsh fall. They didn’t notice Stiles’ presence at all – not that they’d concerned themselves about having an audience before he’d thrown the lust cloud on them. It took the guy on top a few seconds to realign himself but then he was right back to fucking the slightly larger dude on the bottom. Stiles thought it was kind of sweet how they never stopped making out no matter how intense the fucking was.

 

Stiles could see their skin glowing with that precious life force that had his mouth watering. Even if Stiles hadn’t been starving he had no way of knowing how much time he had before someone else in the club had to use the restroom. He squatted down next to the rutting bodies and pulled on the shaggy brown hair of the top. The man moaned at the pleasure/pain mix of the hair tugging.

 

As soon as Stiles caught his eye and he simply stopped moving altogether. The guy beneath him whined in protest at the sudden lack of fucking. Stiles waited patiently for the man to finally open his eyes and see why the sexy times had supposedly come to an end. It took a few minutes – and an awkward throat clearing – before Stiles finally got a chance to trap the bottom with his gaze.

 

It went much easier with the pair of them under his low-level hypnotic control. Normally Stiles might have had to use more force to push down their free will but it wasn’t like he was asking them to do anything they weren’t already engaged in or wanted. If anything they both responded even more enthusiastically with their control taken away. Regardless Stiles made sure they both came twice more as a thank you for letting him feed off of them. He didn’t hear any complaints.

 

It turned out that he really didn’t mind the taste of gingerbread after all.

 

*

 

With his hunger temporarily satisfied Stiles was able to enjoy the rest of the night without worrying about feeding on Danny. Anytime he felt a twinge of his appetite returning Stiles sucked in the heavy lust from the crowd. Even the dancers were turned on while performing. It was like a human buffet of arousal. And if Stiles noticed that his habit of leaking pheromones was making the crowd more generous with their tipping than it wasn’t hurting anybody. Plus the extra boost of enthusiasm from the strippers (including a near constant presence of rock hard boners) just meant a better show all around.

 

After a pole dance and an act where a dude in a wrestling uniform was drenched in baby oil, both Stiles and Danny finally settled into a comfortable and relaxed mood. Danny enjoyed making Stiles blush by pointing out defined muscles and distinctive bulges. He especially liked detailing the different dance moves that doubled as sexual positions he’d always wanted to try out. Stiles indulged in a running commentary that made fun of the elaborate costumes and routines that the strippers used.

 

Stiles and Danny burst out laughing when the inevitable homage to the Village People came. They’d been giggling as soon as the intro music for “Macho Man” started blasting from the speakers. As soon as the first stripper marched across the stage in a cowboy outfit they were goners. Thankfully the volume of the music kept their amusement from annoying the other patrons.

 

“I think the Indian likes you,” Stiles teased.

 

“Native American,” Danny corrected with a smirk. “If you’re going to point out all the hot guys who want a piece of me – which is too many even for you, motor mouth – than at least be politically correct.”

 

Stiles laughed, his teeth glowing bright as a black light rotated over them. “Fine, fine. You can have your _Native American_ lover and I’ll keep the hottie in the sailor outfit.”

 

“And here I thought you’d go for the burly cop.”

 

“What why?”

 

“Well… your Dad’s a cop and I don’t know if you’ve heard of this guy Freud or not but he has some really interesting theories on – ”

 

Stiles slapped a hand over his friend’s mouth and tried his best not to look too horror stricken. “ – Not another word. Mega gross, dude!”

 

Danny playfully bit the hand covering his mouth. Startled, Stiles pulled it back and clutched the appendage as if Danny were actually going to turn into a cannibal on him. “Maybe it’s gross for you but your Dad is hot. And cops are hot. Ergo your dad is mega hot and _not_ mega gross.”

 

“You listen to me, Mahealani, I don’t know what little fantasies you have in that warped little brain of yours –”

 

“ – oh there are _so_ many fantasies –”

 

“ – but there is no way you’re landing my Dad –”

 

“ – all parents love me, dude –”

 

“ – We’d have dorm rules, of course. Socks on the doorknob if we’re –”

 

“ – Oh god, I’m going to have to bleach my brain now –”

 

“ – I would totally let you stay up late. Even on weeknights –”

 

“ – no way are you going to become my new step mommy –”

 

“ – You’d probably have to share a room with Jackson since he’s basically my step kid –”

 

“SOMEONE KILL ME NOW!”

 

During their ridiculous bickering the final group number had come to a close. The Village People impersonators had left the stage to join the other strippers in the audience. Each of them headed to a different table in such a smooth transition that it had to have been rehearsed. The sailor interrupted the proceedings by grabbing the one dressed (or half-dressed in his case) as a football player. They muttered to one another before the football player turned around and headed to a table on the other side of the room. The sailor smiled, pleased with the outcome of the conversation, before walking right over to the grouping of chairs Stiles and Danny were at.

 

The sailor offered the boys a coy smile as he caught the tail end of their conversation. “Sorry we don’t offer that as a service,” he said through pouted lips. “We’re about pleasure here not putting people out of their misery.”

 

Stiles blushed as he realized his call for a merciful death was perhaps a little too loud. His mouth opened and closed like a fish on dry land gasping for air. Danny rolled his eyes at the sight of his friend actually being at a loss of words. He patted Stiles’ arm in mock-comfort.

 

“You’ll have to forgive him. He’s got a thing for sailors.”

 

The high-pitched squeak that Stiles let out in response was just as good as seeing him speechless. Apparently the sailor thought so too. The stripper cooed at the teen before putting his knees on the leather chair and straddling Stiles.

 

Danny’s eyes widened at the bold move. “Careful, Navy boy, you don’t want to give him a heart attack. Unless of course that doctor with the nice eyes and god-like abs is just moonlighting here before heading back to the hospital?”

 

The sailor chuckled, throwing an evaluating look over his broad shoulder. He leered at Danny in some sort of approval. “Don’t worry. I can give your boyfriend mouth to mouth if he needs it.”

 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Danny corrected, shifting nervously in his seat for the first time. “And I didn’t think you were allowed to touch the customers or something.”

 

“Depends on the dancer. We all set our own boundaries,” he answered with a shrug and a sly glance at the bouncers watching over the audience. “But if I’m going to break mine we should probably get some privacy.”

 

Stiles’ eyes flew wide open at the offer. “Privacy?”

 

Danny narrowed his eyes in warning. “I’m not leaving you alone with him.”

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” The sailor suit in all its white dignity suddenly looked out of place on the man’s enticing features. It reminded Danny of brides who had no business wearing white on their wedding day. “If I’d only wanted one of you I wouldn’t have switched tables with the quarterback over there.”

 

Stiles’ eyes changed color, the honey shade brightening quickly to dominate the brown, before returning to their natural state. He felt the succubus stir at the offer and moved his hands to turn the sailor’s head away from Danny to look at him instead. Danny frowned as the stripper shivered and let out a low moan.

 

“You’ve got VIP rooms right?” Stiles asked, his voice going low with desire.

 

The sailor nodded sluggishly. “For private dances. They cost more.”

 

Stiles laughed at the idea of paying for it. “You’re the one who invited us,” he reminded the dancer. “You were the guy in the orange thong from before.”

 

Danny gasped as he too realized where he’d seen the sailor before. “Stiles gave you that twenty.”

 

“Oh he knows,” Stiles added, his eyes still trained on the stripper. “That’s why our new friend swapped tables.” He leaned forward confidently so that his chest and the one straddling him were touching. “Couldn’t keep me out of your mind, huh?”

 

Again the sailor nodded, numb to the whole world but Stiles and his supernatural charms. “Felt something when you boys touched me. Had to get more of it.”

 

Danny felt a little hazy himself. He blushed as he felt himself hardening in his pants. After a cursory glance around the house, Danny casually slid a hand down to his crotch and readjusted himself to fit down a pant leg. His stomach clenched at the way the material clung tight against him.

  
Stiles smelled his friend’s arousal and instinctually leaned closer to him. He’d been a fool to think that his earlier meal and a few whiffs of a turned on crowd would satisfy him. Now his succubi instincts were taking control just like they had back at the college showers. It was only the memory of Cameron’s horrified face that let Stiles regain control over himself.

 

“You should take Danny back there,” Stiles half-suggested, half-ordered the stripper on his lap. He felt the words move across the weird mind link between them and plant themselves firmly in the older man’s mind. “You’ll make it good for him.”

 

“Stiles!” Danny hissed, his own face flushed with embarrassment.

 

He ignored the slight reprimand. It would be infinitely safer for Danny if the stripper took him far, far away. Stiles couldn’t guarantee that would actually be safe enough but at least it limited the chances he would suck his friend dry through his dick. Plus it gave him more time to feed off the energies of the crowd. Stiles could only hope to get enough to last him until Danny dropped him off at his house where he could promptly lock himself away from the world.

 

Of course that all depended on the other two going along with Stiles’ plan. Which, unfortunately, they most definitely did not.

 

“You should come with us,” Danny suggested his voice so low that they could barely it over the music.

 

Stiles’ froze in disbelief. “What?”

 

“It was your tip that brought him back over here.” The lame excuse would have been obvious even if Danny hadn’t been so obviously avoiding Stiles’ gaze.

 

“Yeah and you drove. Think of this as me giving up some money for gas,” Stiles replied, equally unconvincingly. The succubus instincts within were pushing up against his human ones at the blatant offer. Stiles could feel his resolve weakening as a very human part of him felt like accepting Danny’s offer as well. “You two should go. Quickly. Before the bouncers notice the in depth level of customer service going on.”

 

Danny nodded as he stood, hands cupped awkwardly over the bulge in his crotch. The awkwardness from earlier in the evening had returned with a vengeance.

 

“I’ll show you to our best room,” the sailor said, offering Danny a hand.

 

Stiles tried to smile in encouragement. “I’ll be here when you’re… done.”

 

“Right. Yeah.” Danny took the strippers hand but hesitated as the other man tried to pull him along. He ignored the sailor’s inquisitive look in favor of turning back to face Stiles once more. Stiles had to give his friend credit for looking so calm when sporting such a visible hard on; especially with his crotch right at the thin teen’s eye level.

 

Stiles flinched as Danny settled his other hand on top of the one with which he’d been maintaining a death grip on the leather seat. “Come with us,” Danny continued, breath hot and tainted with the smell of pineapple. “I want you to.”

 

It was too much for Stiles to take. He could literally feel Danny’s need pulsing through their skin-on-skin contact. As if that wasn’t enough Danny was linking Stiles to the over tipped stripper like a conductor of really lusty energy. The sex demon inside him was feeding off the circuit like a battery and it took only seconds to overpower everything human and controlled in Stiles.

 

He was a predator in a room full of prey.

 

“It’s your funeral,” Stiles muttered as he allowed Danny to pull him off the seat. The trio kept holding hands as they navigated their way through the tables and booths to the other side of the building.

 

Stiles let the chains off of his senses and his mouth salivated at the amount of prey in one location. He’d tasted it all as one giant melting pot of flavors when he’d just been inhaling their combined lust but unleashed Stiles could taste every individual there. Stiles slowed their progress down in order to reach out and sample. The establishment’s customers were already bursting with so much desire that all Stiles had to do was touch them. Their bodies trembled with relief, crying out in ecstasy as he ripped their orgasms from them and some of their life force as well.

 

Saffron. Mango. Swiss Cheese. Oysters. Almonds. Saltwater Taffy.

 

He was already drunk on the different flavors by the time they reached the stairs leading up to the VIP rooms. Danny and the stripper were breathing heavily, feeling the after shocks of pleasure of Stiles’ feeding through their linked hands. It made the climb to the second floor that much harder but Stiles helped them by pushing some of his newly devoured strength into the humans.

 

The two bouncers who’d laughed at the couple in the bathroom were standing watch at the top of the stairs. Stiles let the stripper talk them down but he couldn’t resist having a little fun at their expense. He sent Danny ahead to find the room with the stripper as his guide before turning his attention to the two men. Stiles used his flashing eyes to grip their minds and then made his move. His lips moved slowly against the first bouncer’s so that he could take his time and enjoy the simple sensation. Stiles only pulled back when the human was at risk of running out of oxygen. While he recovered, Stiles turned to the second bouncer and repeated the same maneuver. When he’d had his fill Stiles turned their mouths on one another.

 

The men moaned into the kiss as their legs buckled beneath them. Stiles leaned back against the rail, an amused smirk dominating his features, and watched them battle for dominance. Eventually Bouncer #2 was able to pin his partner down. The first man stopped his struggle and accepted his fate even going so far as to help unbuckle his pants.

 

“No happy ending until I come back, boys,” Stiles warned them. Their combined whines of frustration brought a smile to his face. “You can still have fun but I don’t want any of you delicious treats going to waste. Don’t disappoint me.”

 

He left as soon as they started rutting against one another once more.

 

Stiles found Danny and the sailor in the last room on the floor. Glass walls lined all of the VIP sections with angled views of the showroom below. Luckily the stripper had already taken the liberty of closing the blinds to give them privacy from the rest of the building. It was sleek looking room with a small bar along the back wall. There was a miniature platform with a stripper pole at the center of it. Chairs, couches and one massive futon that looked suspiciously like a makeshift bed were focused around the small stage. The music pumping through the room’s speakers was different than the one playing in the main lounge. The beat was slower and without vocals so that the noise was more sensuous and dark.

 

“You like it?” the stripper asked, eager to please.

 

Stiles nodded before collapsing into a square chair that was surprisingly comfortable for something made from hard looking bubbles of leather and metal supports. He smiled and waved Danny over to join him. He reached out and snagged the Hawaiian teen’s hand when he made to sit in the chair next to him. Danny fell into Stiles’ lap with a grunt and a small smile.

 

“Comfortable?” Stiles asked, edges of lips upturned in an almost smile.

 

Danny nodded, breathing in a deep lungful of Stiles’ pheromone cloud. “My head feels a little funny. Like I’m high but I know I didn’t take anything.” He quirked an eyebrow at Stiles. “And there’s something different about you, too. It’s like… like I can feel you _inside_ me – inside my head.”

 

Stiles carefully kept his face blank. “Does that scare you?”

 

“It should,” Danny answered honestly. “But it feels good too. I feel comfortable, safe even, with you in here. And it’s not like I haven’t wanted you for awhile now.”

 

“You’re such an open person, Danny. So likeable.” Stiles pressed a chaste kiss to the other teen’s throat. “So trusting.”

 

“You won’t hurt me,” Danny said confidently. He shifted slightly, getting more comfortable in Stiles’ lap, as if to prove how much he believed his claim.

 

Stiles stroked a finger along the smooth skin of Danny’s jaw line. “But I am going to hurt you, Danny. That’s why I kept trying to keep this part of me down and locked away. You really should have left me downstairs.” He studied the slightly startled look on his face. “Don’t worry. There won’t be any pain. Only pleasure… right up to the end anyway.”

 

Danny shivered, the motion vibrating against Stiles in a pleasant manner. “What are you going to do?”

 

“Nothing right now.” Stiles decisively turned his head to the sailor who was watching them with a downright jealous expression. “Not to you anyway.”

 

Sensing he was being called to purpose, the stripper stepped forward. “My turn?”

 

Stiles’ answering grin was feral and hungry. Sure it wasn’t as fun when he had to use his Succubus powers on prey but Stiles certainly enjoyed the eager results. “Take off your clothes. I want to see my meal before I eat it.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

A shiver of pleasure ran down Stiles’ spine at the endearment. Unfortunately his happiness was quickly replaced by irritation. The sailor was a little too eager to please his master. He was undoing the buttons on his jacket with such speed that it wasn’t even entertaining.

 

“Stop,” Stiles growled. “You’re a stripper, aren’t you? Why don’t you act like it?”

 

Another nod of agreement and the sailor was moving his hips in sync with the low level music. Nimble fingers plucked at the buttons slowly and purposefully. Stiles leaned against the back of the chair and stroked a hand along the top of Danny’s thigh. They watched the show (now made more enjoyable thanks to Stiles’ instruction) with eager eyes taking in every inch of leisurely revealed skin.

 

It wasn’t until the stripper had removed all of his clothing but those simple white slacks that Stiles nudged Danny off of him. “Why don’t you go join him, Danny?”

 

“Okay.”

 

Stiles grinned at how easily Danny agreed. He’d been using only the lowest levels of mental control over the hacker. His Sire had hinted that consent played a large role in the relationship between Succubi and their prey. Stiles could feel instinctually that the assertion was correct. It pleased him to no end that Danny was such a willing compatriot. The urge to feed on the tan teen was slowly being replaced by the desire to claim and yoke him into permanent service. Stiles would need a stable of food to survive on and Danny was looking like the perfect place to start.

 

The sailor took Danny’s hips in his hands and started to rotate their hips together. When they’d settled into an easy rhythm the half-naked man slipped free of the embrace and let Danny sway on his own. The man moved behind Danny and pressed against his back until they were locked together. He slid the tips of his fingers around Danny’s firm sides and into the slim opening between the t-shirt and the top of Danny’s jeans. Stiles locked eyes with the dancer and nodded his permission to start undressing Danny.

 

The shirt came off with a quick slide. The jeans took some maneuvering where Danny had to hold himself against the stripper pole while the sailor dropped to his knees to pull his legs free. Nimble fingers stroked along bare, tanned skin that only contributed to the erection tenting his navy blue boxer briefs. Danny moaned as those same fingers pinched and rubbed at his dark nipples. Both of their eyes remained locked on Stiles’.

 

“Pants,” Stiles muttered, nodding his head at the stripper.

 

Danny grinned at the opportunity to return the disrobement favor. He spun in the sailor’s arms and nudged his leg between the other man’s. His knee rubbed delightfully at the still clothed crotch while his fingers undid the top button and the zipper. Danny didn’t stop at just pulling the white pants down. Instead he hooked his fingers through the familiar orange strap of the man’s thong and yanked. Seconds later and the sailor was naked, stepping free of the pile of clothes.

 

Since Danny didn’t wait for Stiles’ permission before rushing to remove the rest of his own clothes Stiles decided he had to be punished. Not that seeing Danny naked and hard wasn’t more than making up for the regretful rush to undress or anything.

 

“No cumming for you, Danny-boy,” Stiles taunted, turning his attention to the stripper instead. “Come here.”

 

The sailor eagerly approached. His cock jiggled in the air as he ran, stopping just short of poking Stiles in the eye with it. The succubus held out a finger and traced the veins along the underside of his penis, examining it closely. Smiling in satisfaction Stiles turned the one finger into an open palm and held it under the throbbing head. A mental press of that familiar pleasure button and the pre-cum was gushing out of the stripper and into Stiles’ outstretched palm.

 

Stiles brought the hand up to his lips and licked at the translucent liquid like a cat tasting a small saucer of milk. He hummed happily at the buttered popcorn flavor. “I’m going to enjoy you.”

 

“What about me?” Danny asked shifting his weight from bare foot to bare foot.

 

“Fuck yourself on the pole,” Stiles suggested, eyes darkening at the thought.

 

He wasn’t sure if Danny shivered at the look or the command. Either way Danny was backing up to the metal and pressing his firm butt against it. He shivered and his thick erection withered ever so slightly. There was a distinct lack of pleasure emanating from the teenager.

 

Stiles was not pleased. “What’s wrong?”

 

Danny swallowed nervously. “It’s cold and kind of rough, you know?”

 

A mere glance was all it took before Stiles was mentally pushing the Sailor back across the room to his fellow prey. The Sailor found himself on his knees once more but this time turning Danny around so that his shoulder was leaning against the pole. The bent form left Danny’s ass sticking out, vulnerable and exposed. The stripper used his hands to part the tan butt cheeks before licking lightly at the opening.

 

“Holy shit,” Danny grunted. His cock rising to full strength at the sensation.

 

Stiles watched, pleased, as the stripper used his tongue and saliva to lubricate Danny. True to his punishment Stiles used his control over Danny to keep the boy from climax. It didn’t stop the steady stream of pre-cum from pouring out of his cock though. He was desperate to relieve the tension that was building in his groin even going so far as to shove his ass backwards against the sailor’s mouth and trying to fuck himself on the tongue. It wasn’t until Danny’s behind was leaking with just as much lubricant as the front that Stiles allowed the stripper to return to his side.

 

Danny didn’t need any further encouragement. He flipped around and wrapped his ass around the pole, shoving it as close to his opening as possible. With the added saliva-lubricant Danny found himself sliding remarkably easily up and down the metal rode. The teen was moaning in pleasure and frustration at the lack of climax.

 

The stripper wasn’t having that problem at all. Stiles was already draining him of his first load by the time Danny was frantically fucking himself on the pole. After finally finishing, the sailor moved around to Stiles front and sat on his lap. For his first lap dance Stiles found himself not really caring for the action in the slightest. It was presumptuous of prey to touch his person like that. Stiles’ attentions were rewards to be earned. For all of the stripper’s help and attention that night he hadn’t earned the pleasure of a Succubi’s attentions.

 

Stiles reached around the man’s waist and gripped the cock base. He used the direct contact to flood the stripper with endorphins and press the living hell out of the pleasure center of his brain.

 

The sailor came twice more in rapid succession; cum flying across the floor at impressive distances. He screamed the second time. Stiles might have pushed it to three if he hadn’t sensed how much strain it was causing the body. There were plenty of others to feed off of in the club and Stiles liked the taste of popcorn far too much to kill his only source for it – for the time being at least.

 

Stiles let the unconscious body slide to the floor before turning his attention back to Danny. The teen watched the procession with wide eyes still fucking himself senseless against the stripper pole. Stiles stalked forward and lifted Danny up to a standing position with just the nudge of his hand under his chin.

 

“My turn?” Danny asked breathlessly and with just a tinge of fear.

 

Stiles shrugged. “You don’t have to be just a piece of meat to me, Danny. Not that I still won’t suck you dry every now and again.”

 

Danny frowned in confusion, still panting from his lack of release. “But I thought…”

 

“So eager to be food?” Stiles quipped. “You respond so well to me. If you ask me I think you’re rather enjoying being under my thumb.” He ran his fingers through Danny’s hair, happy to feel the other teen relax into the touch. “Has someone been hiding the fact that they’re a needy little submissive from the Pack? Hmmm?”

 

“I don’t like to beat on,” Danny grunted defensively.

 

“Not that kind of submission,” Stiles agreed easily. “But you don’t mind letting someone else take the wheel, do you? Otherwise you’d be struggling against my control over your body more than you are… which is pathetically little by the way.”

 

Danny shivered as he felt the pressure Stiles sent through their mental link. His cock strained with the sensation only supporting the succubus’ theory.

 

“I’d protect you from everything but my appetite,” Stiles whispered into Danny’s ear, taking the time to nibble on it while he was there. “You’d always carry a piece of me in you. You’d always belong to me.”

 

“What about the Pack?” Danny asked weakly.

 

Stiles could already feel his agreement but decided to indulge the teen anyway. “I’d be your Master so I’d come first, of course, but in your free time you can play with the others.” He adopted a stern expression. “But you’ll keep your mouth shut about me. The last thing I need is Derek interfering.”

 

“I thought you were okay with the Pack?”

 

“Which is why I don’t want to have to kill them for getting in my way,” Stiles replied, all cheer and deadly serious. “Buck up, Danny. With any luck the rest of them will join us in sexy times and bliss all around.”

 

The tan teen bristled at the threat. “This isn’t you, Stiles. You’d never hurt them. Pack is family remember?”

 

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I’ve gone through a few changes recently. Perhaps you’ve noticed?”

 

Danny shook his head, fighting to clear his mind of the cloud of exhaustion, confusion and overwhelming lust. “What if I say no?”

 

“Then you can sleep it off with sailor moon over there,” Stiles grinned, hooking a thumb over his shoulder to point at the blacked-out stripper. “But we both know what your answer is.”

 

“What do I have to do?”

 

Stiles grinned triumphantly as he guided Danny to his knees. Somewhere in the back of his mind he felt his humanity stirring, fighting against his instincts to enslave and claim. He knew that as soon as he’d drunk his fill of the strip club’s patrons that the sex demon instincts currently in control of his conscious mind would revert back to the subconscious. But for now the predator in him was in charge and it was drunk on power.

 

Stiles could always worry about the tattered remnants of his humanity another day. Tonight he had a harem to start and humans to digest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter only has half of the amount of plot it was supposed to but it was already getting epically long so I decided to break it up into two separate chapters. Obviously this first chapter is about Stiles losing control. The next chapter will be the fallout of his actions.


	5. Food With Benefits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was so late! Inspiration has not been a familiar face as of late. 
> 
> This chapter was actually finished on Halloween but Hurricane Sandy took away my power and internet until today so I had to wait to transcribe it from paper and then upload it.
> 
> I hope you enjoy :)

Stiles had never before woken up feeling so refreshed. His limbs remained heavy even as the last vestiges of drowsiness left him. He whined slightly as he stretched his limbs; the movements looking pathetically sluggish. Not that Stiles minded if he appeared like a newborn calf walking for the first time. Ever since Scott first tried to bite his head off – _literally_ – he’d lost all hope of ever getting a full nights sleep. Stiles was ridiculously happy to have the streak of poor sleep broken. Judging by the lack of hungry noises even his stomach was hard pressed to find anything to complain about. Hell, if Stiles were a Disney princess there would be a flock of birds singing back up to his happy tune and a dozen plump squirrels running around his feet.

 

Which is why it all came crashing down when he rolled over and found himself face to face with a very naked Danny.

 

“It’s about time you woke up.”

 

Stiles shrieked in surprise. He flailed so spectacularly that he even fell off the bed that was just big enough to fit the two of them. The sheets tumbled down after him, chasing the limbs that their brethren had been tangled around. It wasn’t until Stiles tried to sit up and the sheets pooled around his waist that he realized Danny wasn’t the only one sleeping naked.

 

“That’s going to leave a bruise,” Stiles mumbled, rubbing his lower back where his body had first made contact with the floor.

 

Danny snorted in amusement. “Shame. You always did have a nice ass… if a bit boney.”

 

Stiles was all set to glare at the tanner boy when he caught sight of Danny without the protection of the sheets. Danny had propped himself up against the headboard, his arms spread out on the single, long pillow. Stiles’ glare quickly dissolved into an embarrassed set of wide eyes as his gaze moved from Danny’s amused smirk to his well muscled body all the way down to the impressive hard on which was unhelpfully pointing right back up at Danny’s mouth. It was a beautiful circuit that Stiles’ eyes tracked several times before settling on the bookcase over the other teen’s shoulder.

 

“Aren’t you going to cover yourself up, dude?” Stiles asked hoarsely. He pointedly ignored the little voice in the back of his head that hoped the answer would be no.

 

“You didn’t have a problem getting me naked last night,” Danny replied with a shrug of his shoulders that tugged thick muscles beneath smooth skin. “In fact you’re the one who ordered me to leave my clothes at the strip club. Thanks so much for that, by the way, it really made the drive home an embarrassment to remember. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to go back on the highway again.”

 

Stiles felt the panic attack bubbling to the surface. “You drove _naked_? Hold the phone, what the hell do you mean I _ordered_ you? Since when do you listen to anything I say?”

 

Danny put on his bitchiest, most exaggerated thoughtful look. “It must have been sometime between the epic blowjob I gave you – totally swallowed by the way, you’re welcome – and the orgy you instigated at the strip club.”

 

“WHAT?”

 

The hacker appeared to have fairly little patience for the mental roadblocks Stiles’ consciousness was hitting at breakneck speeds. If anything the grin he was sporting hinted that he was rather enjoying turning the tables on his motor mouth of a pack mate. Danny shifted slightly on the bed so that he could watch Stiles’ hilarious facial expressions at a more comfortable angle. It also made his cock point directly at the fallen teenager and only added to his sputtering.

 

“So after last night I’m going to take an educated guess and say that you’re not human anymore.” Danny’s tone was dry but there was an edge of nervousness to it that was clear to Stiles even with his brain mid-explosion.

 

He fiddled with the sheets and looked anywhere but at the other naked man. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

Danny rolled his eyes. “Clearly lying is not one of your new evil super powers.”

 

Stiles felt his breath catch at the description. The note of insecurity was audible even if his question was so quiet it was almost a whisper. “You think I’m evil?”

 

“Not _you_ ,” Danny muttered as all of his humor disappeared. “But last night was not normal, Stiles, and it definitely wasn’t the dork I’ve come to call my friend that was running the show… at least not a version of him I’ve ever seen before.”

 

Stiles nodded in agreement. Cameron’s face flashed through his mind, all of the details of his terror still etched across his features in vivid memory. “Did I… did I hurt anyone?”

 

“As far as I could tell everyone was enjoying themselves. Though that strip club is going to be investing in some serious quantities of disinfectant,” Danny answered after a time, trying to infuse some humor back into the conversation. He wasn’t used to seeing Stiles so quiet. The only other times he’d gone dark were after particularly nasty dust ups with a supernatural creature or while he was moping after getting in a fight with Scott or his father.

 

“So no one died?” Stiles asked, rephrasing his concern.

 

Danny froze. “Is that a legitimate concern?”

 

Stiles nodded, his expression a mixture of guilt and self-loathing. “I lost control once before and it… well, let’s just say it almost ended like that.” He tried not to flinch as Danny scooted a little further back onto the bed. “I’m not always in control of these new instincts. It gets worse when I’m hungry.”

 

“I knew there was something off after we went upstairs,” Danny admitted, finally taking the pillow from behind him and curling around it so that his privates were covered. Stiles tried not to see it as his friend taking further protection against him. “You’ve always been kind of intense _especially_ when it came to protecting the pack or the town but last night was different. It was like you were the danger to the rest of us.”

 

“I still am,” Stiles whispered into the terse silence that followed Danny’s admission.

 

“Not if you’re in control, though, right?” Danny pressed after hearing the despair in Stiles’ voice. “You were fine until that sailor guy came to give you a lap dance. Was that what set off your ‘new instincts’ or whatever?”

 

Stiles shook his head. “It was building before that. This morning was the first time I haven’t felt starved since I was turned, Danny.” Frustrated, he rubbed his hands through the short hairs on his scalp until it began to hurt. “I don’t even remember what happened after that last group number. All I know is that I’m full and you’re afraid of me.”

 

Danny offered him a stubborn look. “I’m not afraid.”

 

“Uh, yeah, you totally are.” Stiles jabbed his pointer finger against his chest repeatedly. “I can feel it in here, Danny. Whatever happened between us last night… whatever I did to you… has left us linked. I can feel everything you’re feeling.” He gave a weak chuckle. “I can even tell how hard you still are under that pillow and I’m pretty sure that’s the fault of this weird link thing-a-ma-jig too.”

 

“Slave bond.”

 

“What?”

 

Danny avoided his eyes. “It’s called a ‘slave bond’ or at least that’s what you said it was last night.”

 

Stiles felt tears prick at the corner of his eyes. “Oh my god. Are you saying I _enslaved_ you?”

 

“There might have been some volunteering on my part,” Danny admitted, shame-faced. “Though in my defense there was clearly some mind-warping power going on. Still I –

_shit_ this is embarrassing – I’ve always kind of been into that sort of thing.”

 

“I’m so so so so sorry and – wait a minute, you’re into that whole Master/Slave thing?” Stiles asked, his surprise temporarily overpowering his need to grovel for forgiveness. “And you’re the guy who likes getting whipped by dudes in leather?”

 

Danny scowled. “I told you last night that it’s not the whole pain thing, it’s more the submission. I don’t like pain.”

 

Stiles held both of his hands up to show he didn’t mean to offend. “I’m just surprised is all. I didn’t really see you in that role.”

 

“Says the guy who owns me now,” Danny muttered. He ignored Stiles’ full body flinch. “Though you’ve got more control than I realized I’d be giving up.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Danny moved the pillow so that Stiles got another eye full of his rock hard cock. “Well for one thing you _ordered_ me not to get off last night and I still haven’t been able to. Believe me when I say I tried – a lot.”

 

Stiles’ eyes opened wide in shock. “You mean you’ve been blue balling it all night?”

 

“Unfortunately and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to again until you take it back or give me permission,” Danny added with a pointed look down at his crotch. “I’ve heard stories about those erection pills going wrong, Stiles, and I refuse to go to a hospital and have a needle suck all the blood out of my dick just because you can’t handle your new powers.”

 

“So you want me to…”

 

“ – to order me to ejaculate,” Danny mocked before nodding desperately. “Absolutely.”

 

Stiles waved a hand in Danny’s direction with a twirl of his fingers as if he were casting a spell. “Danny-boy, I give you permission to ejaculate.”

 

They both stared at the cock that remained painfully erect and showed no signs of release.

 

“That’s it? That’s all you’ve got?”

 

“What?” Stiles squealed defensively. “I’m trying my best.”

 

“Try. Harder.”

 

“That’s no way to talk to your Master.”

 

_“Stiles.”_

 

“Fine, fine. Danny, cum your brains out!”

 

The swollen penis barely twitched.

 

“…I order you to cum!”

 

Nothing.

 

“…I swear to god if you broke my penis…”

 

“Maybe you should try rubbing one out at the same time?” Stiles suggested quickly.

 

“Maybe you shouldn’t suck so much,” Danny muttered angrily before taking said advice. He let out a small hiss as his fingers stroked the shaft.

 

“How’s it feel?” Stiles asked, moving closer to the bed for a better look. He tried to focus his thoughts on Danny climaxing in his bed. It wasn’t hard to visualize seeing as it had been a fantasy of Stiles’ before.

 

Danny did an excellent imitation of a werewolf’s most irritated growl. “Feels exactly like it did the last hundred times I tried this while you were asleep.” He gave up after the touches turned painful with lack of release. “What else have you got?”

 

Stiles hesitated before climbing off the floor and sitting on the edge of his bed. Never before had he felt so awkward about being on his own bed. “Maybe you’re not the one who has to touch it.”

 

“This better not be an excuse to find out if I think you’re attractive or not,” Danny warned while at the same time shuffling across the bed on his knees and bringing his dick into Stiles’ reach.

 

“I already know you do,” Stiles replied with a smug grin before tentatively reaching out a finger and poking the head of Danny’s cock.

 

The hacker shuddered at the brief contact. “It’s a dick, not a snake, Stiles, it won’t bite. I’m sure you’ve touched one before… and you totally don’t know if I find you hot or not.”

 

Stiles’ grin widened. “Actually I do. One of my new powers lets me smell arousal and you’ve been putting off more fumes than Pepe Le Pew.”

 

“Are you saying my interest smells like a skunk?” Danny asked, trying to sound irritated at the comment and not moaning like an cat in heat as Stiles finally wrapped those deliciously long fingers around the base of his shaft. He failed as soon as Stiles stroked up to the burning hot flesh of his head. “Holy shit that feels amazing.”

 

“More like pineapples,” Stiles replied moving even closer as the familiar scent flooded his senses. He couldn’t help but lean in to take a whiff right from Danny’s neck. Both boys moaned as the flesh of their bodies touched and slid against one another.

 

Danny grimaced as he felt the quickly impending climax was still being blocked from reaching its full potential. “It’s not working.”

 

Stiles frowned and started tugging more vigorously. “I don’t know what else to do. Should I suck it?”

 

“Fuck!” Danny screamed as his cock jumped and twitched in a fruitless effort to release the build up of semen from his balls. “Stiles, you can’t just say shit like that to me when I’m all tuned up like this.”

 

“Sorry,” Stiles apologized, breathily and not at all sincerely. Deciding to trust his instincts while he was feeling full, Stiles dropped his head onto Danny’s shoulder and began pressing little kissing to the goalie’s neck. “I’m going to try something and I don’t want you to freak out, okay?”

 

The larger boy shivered and leaned into the gentle caresses. It took him a minute to process that Stiles had even asked him a question before his eyes stayed open long enough to shoot the succubus a wary look. “What are you going to do?”

 

Stiles let his free hand roam up Danny’s ass, along the defined ridges of his spine before coming to a rest against the back of his neck. “I think I used that link to order you around so I probably have to… you know… _access_ it again in order to rescind the command.”

 

Danny’s body twitched pleasantly at the word that represented just how much control the skinnier boy had over him. He couldn’t bring himself to speak without moaning around the words so instead Danny had to settle for a brisk nod of approval. At least if Stiles killed him while experimenting with the link it wouldn’t be a painful way to go. Danny had certainly witnessed much worse options since becoming a human member of a werewolf pack.

 

Sensing reluctant permission, Stiles pushed back his own unease and reached for the part of his mind that kept projecting all of Danny’s feelings at him. He used the basic techniques that his Sire had taught him to cautiously open the gates that kept their two minds separate.

 

Both boys gasped at the pleasant thrum of power that sparked between them.

 

It reminded Stiles a lot of the bond he felt with his Sire. The feeling of safety and love flowed just as easily between them as it had between the two Succubi the morning after Stiles had been turned. Only this time it was Danny being flooded with the urge to please a master while it was Stiles who felt protective and loving towards an underling.

 

From what Stiles could decipher through the pleasurable haze of the link, Danny was only mildly startled at being able to feel another person in their head. When you had a former-Kanima-now-turned-Werewolf as a best friend, you learned to roll with the supernatural punches. Stiles knew that from freshman year with Scott. If anything Danny was exploring the link with just as much scientific curiosity as Stiles was.

 

Stiles felt pride swell inside him that could only have come from the baser instincts of the sex demon. It took him a second to realize that he was proud of how well his slave – _Danny_ , Stiles quickly corrected himself – was adjusting. They’d chosen the first member of their new family well.

 

The goalie started rubbing his cheek against Stiles’ shoulder blade, nuzzling the bare skin there with a look of pure bliss across his face. Stiles had seen several of the beta wolves do the same thing to Derek after a particularly successful training session. It was Danny literally basking in Stiles’ affection as the positive feeling leaked out of the succubus and into the other teenager.

 

Suddenly Stiles wanted nothing more in the world than to reward Danny for his good behavior. He was sure that even if his appetite had awakened in that moment that the desire to bring his slave – _Danny_ – pleasure would have over powered it.

 

And just like that he knew how to release Danny from his dilemma.

 

Stiles let the sensations of the moment override his thoughts. He trusted that his sex demon instincts weren’t out to bring Danny any harm. If anything his inner succubus kept thinking of Danny as a stray human they’d brought home to love and care for. Stiles could understand why his own Sire had told him that he was both a child, a brother and a lover to him now. In that moment Danny was his whole world.

 

It was the way Danny pressed soft kisses to Stiles’ neck as he felt the other teenager’s adoration coursing through his mind and soul.

 

It was Stiles sliding his fingers up and down the impossibly hard length until Danny’s entire body was writhing on the mattress.

 

It was how Danny clung to Stiles’ skinnier frame as it were a rock in the middle of the ocean and to let go was to drown and be lost forever as the orgasm built and threatened to suck them both down into the abyss.

 

It was the moment Stiles allowed Danny to finally cum but _didn’t_ feed from him that told them both how special their new bond was.

 

It was the overpowering scent of pineapple filling the room while shot after shot of Danny’s cum pooled on their chests, their thighs, and the bed sheets.

 

It was Danny’s sharp gasps being swallowed by Stiles’ welcoming lips and tongue.

 

It was how easily their bodies slotted together in the afterglow.

 

It was everything.

 

*

 

It was doomed. They were doomed. The whole world was doomed.

 

_Okay_ , Stiles grudgingly corrected his panicked thoughts as he and Danny walked across the school parking lot together, _the whole world isn’t doomed. Just little ole me._

 

Not for the first time Stiles realized that having werewolves as friends wasn’t his best decision. Especially when there was no amount of showering that was going to get that much of Danny’s scent off of his body. And definitely not when they’d had to rush to get ready for school after spending the morning cuddling and forgetting that it was still a weekday.

 

Not that the werewolves would even need their super sniffers with how obvious he and Danny were being. Twice on the drive to school they’d been surprised to find their hands clasped together. Stiles chanced a look down and sure enough Danny’s fingers were once more tangled with his.

 

“We’ve got to stop doing that,” Stiles muttered as he freed himself and shoved his hands purposefully into his jean pockets.

 

Danny shrugged, looking only mildly upset about the loss of skin-to-skin contact. “I can’t help it either. At least you’re not the only one with new instincts to worry about.”

 

Stiles smiled at the warm reminder that he wasn’t alone in the mess that was his life anymore. Danny’s lips twisted to match his own and they were lost for a moment in the shared affection. Whatever tentative bond had started at the club had solidified that morning. The warning bell rang, breaking into their daze and they quickly scrambled into the building.

 

Yesterday it had been a miracle that Stiles managed to avoid the werewolves for so long and even then they’d found him by lunch. It was basically going to be impossible for both Stiles and Danny to avoid everyone for an entire day. So they’d come up with a Plan B. A plan that would explain why they smelled so much like each other. A plan to cover the amount of time they would inevitably be spending together from then on. A plan that Stiles was only half sure would work.

 

But Stiles figured most of the Pack’s plans only worked half the time anyway so why should the succubus’ brain trust be expected to do better?

 

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE DATING STILINSKI?!”

 

A plan that Danny apparently had been forced to initiate earlier than he’d hoped for.

 

Stiles flinched at the sound of Jackson’s angry tone echoing down the crowded hallways. He could already feel Danny’s irritation with his best friend through the link as well as his nervousness. Danny had been the one to come up with the cover story once he realized that Stiles was dead set against telling the Pack the truth (no matter what arguments that the goalie had made in favor of it).

 

Still, turning back to watch as Danny pulled an enraged Jackson into a classroom for privacy made him feel even worse about dragging the other human into his mess. As soon as the classroom door slammed shut behind the pair of best friends, the heads of every student in the crowded hallway turned to face Stiles. He gulped, shrugged at them all in a vaguely apologetic way before running in the opposite direction in a less than dignified manner.

 

Which is why, of course, he ended up running into and knocking over his best friend as soon as he rounded the next corner. The two of them tumbled sloppily onto the floor with poor Scott taking most of the impact.

 

“Stiles?” Scott asked from beneath him.

 

“Oh. Hey, Scott. Funny seeing you here.”

 

His friend ignored the greeting in favor of staring at him with a confused look on his face. Stiles watched, horrified, as Scott leaned up towards him and scented the conveniently placed neck. Presumably Scott was checking for any reason Stiles might be running down the hallways at break neck speed. Unfortunately for Scott that was not what he ended up sniffing out.

 

Scott’s eyes opened into wide, round bulbs of shock. “Is that what I think it is?”

 

Stiles scrambled off his best friend and crab walked backwards until his backpack collided with the lockers on the other side of the hallway. “Um…”

 

“Did you just tackle me with Danny’s… with his… you know,” Scott finished, still looking fairly traumatized as he made the most unrecognizable hand gestures for semen ever used in human history, “all over you?”

 

“Um…”

 

“Wait,” Scott quickly shushed him, plugging his nostrils with two of his fingers. “ _Why_ is Danny’s stuff all over you?”

 

Suddenly remembering how much he preferred ignoring sensitive issues until they just went away, Stiles bounced back onto his feet and took off down the corridor shouting back a quick, “See you at lunch!”

 

*

 

For the second day in a row the Pack was waiting for Stiles outside of the lunchroom.

 

“Oh god,” Stiles moaned, utterly mortified. “Are we really doing this again?”

 

Scott shuddered at the suggestion. “No offense but there’s no way I’m getting in a puppy pile with Danny’s stuff all over you.”

 

Jackson wrinkled his nose in disgust. “What, did you bathe in it?”

 

“Kinky,” Erica said, eyes alight in appreciation.

 

Danny had apparently decided to punish his best friend for being a dick about Plan B. Unfortunately the manner with which he doled out said punishment was also a punishment for Scott. Simply put: Danny decided to smother them with his pretend relationship with Stiles.

 

So when Danny licked Stiles’ earlobe and smirked at Jackson before declaring that, “Stiles made me cum more than anyone ever has before,” without a single stuttering heartbeat to suggest a lie, that it was the most vicious punishment Jackson had ever been dealt. A fact further proven by the way Jackson’s face decided to freeze in an expression of distraught horror. Poor Scott looked ready to puke.

 

Lydia merely hooked an arm through Jackson’s and started pulling him towards the cafeteria doors. “Try not to break him, Danny.”

 

“Always knew you had it in you, Stilinski,” Isaac complimented him with a quick fist bump. “All those years of sexual repression finally paid off, huh?”

 

Scott made a dying noise in his throat.

 

Allison took pity on her boyfriend and put her hands over his ears. Though the look she stealthily gave Stiles over said boyfriend’s shoulder was anything but innocent. It was a look of carnal experience that reminded Stiles that the huntress had been in a lot more physical relationships than Scott ever had.

 

“I don’t know who to be more surprised by,” Erica whispered breathily into the ear Danny had just licked, “you or female Robin Hood over there. I always thought you two would be weak in the sack.”

 

“No you didn’t,” Boyd teased his flirtatious girlfriend. “In fact I distinctly remember a conversation we had where you wanted to ask Stiles to join us for – ”

 

Erica’s warning growl cut him off. “Shut up now, _Vincent_ , or no sex for you later.”

 

He held up his hands in the air in a placating manner. “Alright, alright. No need to start slinging people’s first names around.” He winked at where Stiles and Danny were walking next to them to the lunch line. “Although now that I know Stiles here has some skills maybe we can rethink that conversation.”

 

Danny quickly drew Stiles flush against his side. “Sorry, Boyd, I’m not sharing.”

 

Isaac threw the goalie a pout as he cut in next to them in the line. “Spoilsport.”

 

“Where were all these invites for sex when I was suffering from a case of terminal blue balls?” Stiles wondered, finally finding his voice through the shock of being the center of that particular conversation with the pack.

 

Erica shrugged. “I always thought you were holding out for Derek.”

 

“Me, too.” Allison added as she fished out some money from her purse to pay for her and Scott’s lunches.

 

“Derek?” Stiles sputtered, blushing for the first time since being waylaid once again by his pervy packmates. “Like he would ever even consider it.”

 

Danny gave him a funny look. Stiles pretended that he hadn’t just sent a wave of hope through their bond that might have just caused him further embarrassment. He always was good at self-delusion.

 

“Can we please stop talking about Stiles’ sex life? Please?” Scott begged when the group finally joined him at the table he’d been holding down for them.

 

“Why, McCall? Jealous you didn’t pop that cherry when you had the chance?” Erica teased from the other end of the table.

 

Scott kept his eyes firmly on the table in front of him. “Stiles is my best friend.”

 

“That’s not a denial,” Lydia happily pointed out.

 

“Or an answer to the question,” Boyd added.

 

This time it was Danny who took pity on the wolf. “Doesn’t matter. Stiles is mine.”

 

Stiles found his hand on display and being squeezed to death by Danny’s. “Right,” he remembered to agree just a bit too late to be natural.

 

Jackson’s eyes narrowed at him from across the table. “So just how long has this been going on exactly?”

 

“A month or so,” Danny lied smoothly at the same time as Stiles answered with a truthful, “A day,” and thus not at all smoothly.

 

Once again they were the focus of the Pack’s undivided attention but this time the looks they were receiving were not at all joking and supportive. There was a volley of head tilting, expressive eye rolling and several minutes of poking before the Pack finished their silent conversation around the couple.

 

Allison cleared her throat, signaling that she’d been the one that had lost whatever silent battle of wills had been going on around them. “So… you guys aren’t that serious after all?”

 

“We have a connection,” Danny replied honestly – a little too honestly in Stiles’ opinion – even if the Pack didn’t know what he was referencing. Stiles hoped that the tight squeeze he gave Danny didn’t look as harsh to the others as it was meant to be a warning to Danny. The hacker flinched slightly at the reprimand echoing through their bond before adding, “and we’re exploring that.”

 

“And you haven’t considered how this will effect the rest of us?” Jackson demanded.

 

Danny sighed wearily in a way that left Stiles with the impression that this was an argument Jackson had made before. He got a flash of memory from Danny and Jackson’s private conversation from that morning. Stiles shivered slightly, still unused to seeing glimpses into someone else’s mind… even one that belonged to him now.

 

“And how exactly does this,” Stiles raised their combined hands into the air, “effect you, Jackson?”

 

“We’re a Pack,” Jackson bit out angrily. “What if you two break up? What happens if one of you decide to leave? What if we end up taking sides and splitting back into two different packs again?”

 

Boyd hummed thoughtfully. “He’s got a point.”

 

Erica glared at her boyfriend. “No, he really doesn’t.”

 

“Yeah,” Allison added quickly, her own hand finding Scott’s, “just because it’s two humans in a relationship doesn’t mean it’s any different than the rest of the couples in the Pack.”

 

“Of course it’s different!” Jackson exclaimed. The other wolves at the table avoided Stiles’ gaze. The guilt on their faces made it clear that they, however begrudgingly, agreed with Jackson.

 

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I get that the members of the Furry Club at this table may think less of their human friends but Danny and I are big boys. If we should decide not to stay together than neither of us will expect anyone to choose sides or split Pack lines.”

 

“Exactly.” Danny’s eyes cut a line straight to Jackson. “Just because Jacks, here, and Lydia break up every five seconds doesn’t mean the rest of us will.”

 

The red head in question gripped the cheap plastic fork tightly. Everyone else nervously shifted in their seats at the sight of her bright smile. It was the same fake cheeriness they’d learned usually preceded either a cutting retort or excessive violence. “Jackson and I do not need a lecture on relationships from the one person at this table who has consistently dated creeps, cheaters and killers.”

 

Stiles could feel Danny’s shame as if it were his own. “What are you talking about?”

 

“Remember how Danny had the hots for Matt?” Lydia asked brightly. “It was hardly the first of his poor dating choices.”

 

“Lydia,” Jackson murmured warningly.

 

Allison was frowning from her corner of the table. “I thought Matt was straight.”

 

“Matt was a psycho,” Scott stated as if it explained everything. Stiles had to admit it was a pretty good summary.

 

Lydia smiled. “He wasn’t so straight that he and Danny didn’t meet up to geek out over some film equipment.”

 

Oddly enough Danny’s angry look was aimed at Jackson and not Lydia. He leaned forward and hissed, “You swore you wouldn’t tell anyone about that.”

 

Jackson shrugged half-heartedly as he suddenly found his food very interesting.

 

“Don’t worry, Danny, I already knew about the others.”

 

“Others?” Erica asked, her curiosity peaked.

 

Lydia started listing off Danny’s history of atrociously poor choice of dates on her perfectly manicured fingernails. “Johnny set the school gym on fire, Kyle cheated with our English professor, Dennis tried to sell drugs to your Dad, Ben cheated on you, Tim cheated on you… with Ben, Mark tried to blame his hacking on you even after he knew you were on probation, Stephen cheated, Luke took steroids…” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “And I think that brought us all the way back to psycho-killer-Matt.”

 

“We got it, Lydia, _thanks_ ,” Stiles snapped. To her credit, there was a flash of regret on the girl’s face before it quickly disappeared behind the constant frigid mask of Lydia Martin.

 

“So what you’re saying is that Stiles is the first normal guy Danny’s ever dated?” Isaac asked after the uncomfortable silence dragged on too long.

 

Scott smirked. “Unless Stiles is hiding the fact that he’s a serial killer or something.”

 

Stiles and Danny exchanged guarded looks. Stiles wondered if Danny could hear his mental chanting over the bond.

 

_Doomed-doomed-doomed-doomed-doomed-doomed-doomed-doomed…_

 

*

 

After faking his way through lunch, Stiles got hungry again for the first time since the feast at the strip club. He still can’t remember it clearly but the heavy weight in his stomach made him think he got pretty full. Stiles was frankly a little disappointed that a twinge of hunger had him so panicked but if feeding off several dozen people in one night didn’t fill him up for more than 24 hours than he wasn’t sure how long he could keep himself going without hurting anyone.

 

Not for the first time Stiles thought he might not have a choice but to start starving himself it were the only way to keep everyone safe.

 

Danny must have sensed something through the link because he very purposefully rushed to beat Scott to the seat next to him in Physics class. Stiles couldn’t help but breath a sigh of relief. It was their first class together all day and already he could feel the powerful calming effect that Danny’s presence provided. To his credit Scott didn’t look at all peeved to have to sit with Jackson instead. In fact he kept sending Stiles these little less than subtle thumbs up whenever Danny would take his hand under the table. Of course that’s only because he thought Danny was being affectionate when really the cyber genius is using the link to help keep Stiles’ hunger at bay.

 

It wasn’t until Stiles caught sight of Mr. Harris popping a boner next to his desk that he realized something had gone very, very, most-decidely- _horribly_ wrong. And Stiles thought the pop quiz was going to be the worst part of the class.

 

He thought about taking his pencil and gouging his eyes out just so he won’t ever risk seeing his least favorite adult (after Gerard Argent, of course) with a hard on ever again. When he saw that his teacher was looking at him with less than subtle desire and realized that Stiles _himself_ had inspired that boner, he really did reach for the pencil. It was only Danny’s firm hold on his wrist that kept Stiles from pulling an Oedipus.

 

Danny cocked his head to the side and subtly directed Stiles’ attention to the desk next to them. Stiles’ jaw dropped when he saw that Greenberg was facing a similar dilemma to Mr. Harris only the idiot lacrosse jock was actually trying to get some release by rubbing himself through his jeans. Two rows up Jessica Daniels’ hands had disappeared up her skirt. Someone moaned near the door and Stiles looked up just in time to see two students disappearing under their desk before a third went to join them.

 

Danny and Stiles both jumped when their desk starts to vibrate as Mr. Harris started humping into it while pretending to check over the rest of the class.

 

Stiles decided to test fate and sneak a glance behind him to find Jackson and Scott were sitting so close that their sides were pressed flush up against each other. Scott’s eyes were closed and his bottom lip was pinched between his teeth while Jackson’s hands were working rhythmically under the table. His eyes were glowing an electric blue as he concentrated on something in Scott’s lap that Stiles will swear is a calculator until the day he dies.

 

The most terrifying part was how no one was acting like anything at all untoward was going on. As far as Stiles could tell the only ones immune to the sexual events going on in the classroom were him and Danny. A theory proven correct when Danny started discussing it and no one batted an eye at him – nor did they stop trying to pleasure themselves… or their friends.

 

“Are you doing this?”

 

Stiles tried to keep Danny from feeling the wave of guilt crashing through him. Judging by the stricken look in the goalie’s eyes he failed spectacularly. “I don’t think I’m doing anything but I can’t really think of a more likely explanation.”

 

Danny nodded as if that had been what he expected all along. “Do you think you can stop it?”

 

“I don’t even know how I started it but, sure, I can try,” Stiles muttered before focusing his mind on Mr. Harris. If anything went wrong he’d rather it went wrong with an asshole like Harris than with any of his fellow students.

 

Of course it backfired when Harris sort of spasms as soon as Stiles’ mind touched his and a dark stain spread across the front of the man’s trousers. Stiles doesn’t think he’ll ever go near a Mexican restaurant again without connecting spiced beans and the scent of Harris’ arousal ever again. Just thinking about it made him want to gag.

 

It also sort of works when Harris seemed to snap out of whatever spell he was under and immediately started freaking out over the mini sex party in his classroom. The man only got angrier when none of his students seemed to notice that he was yelling at them. His attempt to pull Greenberg’s hand out of his jeans only ended up with Greenberg trying to pull Harris’ hand _into_ his jeans as well. At which point there was a lot of talk of detention and perverts.

 

Danny finally pointed out the damning stain on the man’s pants. It would almost be funny how all of Harris’ words just dried up and he fled out of the classroom door as if it didn’t mean the boys were once again left alone to deal with the situation.

 

“That went well,” Danny mused.

 

Stiles snorted derisively. “You think?”

 

Danny shrugged. “At least you know how to get the rest of them out of this.”

 

“I thought you were joking!” Stiles shouted. He immediately slapped both of his hands over his mouth before remembering that no one was paying any attention to anything outside of their own junk or junk near them. “You can’t expect me to just let them all get off and then pretend like it never happened!”

 

“I don’t think that’s an option anyway,” Danny pointed out, as calm and collected as ever. Stiles used to think it was an act the tanned teen put on. Now that they were connected supernaturally he could tell that Danny was simply good at staying analytical in bad situations. “Janice already came once and she’s still going at it… which I’d say was normal for a girl – not that I’d know – but Katzenberg over there is on his second hand job and neither of them has snapped out of it.”

 

“Maybe they’re extra horny?” Stiles asked hopefully.

 

Danny smirked at him. “Trust me. Katzenberg isn’t that much of a stud.”

 

Stiles rolled his eyes completely unsurprised that Danny had first hand knowledge of Brian Katzenberg’s lack of sexual skill.

 

“So you’re saying I have to be the one to get them off?” Stiles clarified.

 

Danny nodded. “That’s probably the only reason Harris woke up. It’s like with you stopping me from cumming all last night. You’re the only one who can undo that voodoo you do.”

 

Deciding to let Danny’s poor pop culture reference slide, Stiles looked at the dozen or so other students still writhing around at or under their desks. “I thought this stuff wouldn’t happen after I was full.”

 

“I think it’s my fault,” Danny admitted, absently scratching at the back of his neck. Stiles felt a fresh wave of guilt through the link and, for once, it wasn’t his own. “I thought if we kept touching it would give you a little more control but instead I think it just boosted your ability.”

 

“Great so now we can’t touch without me turning the town into a sex party,” Stiles griped letting his head smack onto the desk in front of him.

 

A fresh wave of embarrassment filtered through their bond. “Actually I might have been thinking about the club last night… during the test.”

 

Stiles tilted his head just enough to be able to peek up at his friend. Danny was avidly avoiding his gaze, choosing instead to watch Greenberg try and go another round with himself. “Let me get this straight. We were touching. You started fantasizing. And now our classmates are creaming their pants?”

 

“If you have to lay it out that way.”

 

“So… what you’re saying is that this is your fault?”

 

Danny glared at him. “It’s your fault too. I was just daydreaming during a pop quiz. You’re the one with the sex mojo that made everyone like this.”

 

Stiles chose to gloss over those so not important details. “Finally this isn’t my fault!” He fist pumped the air for good measure.

 

“Can you just get us out of this now, please?” Danny begged, unimpressed with Stiles’ newly cleared conscience. “Preferably _before_ the bell rings and a whole new herd of students come in and get zapped into a sex frenzy.”

 

Behind them Scott let out a groan and Jackson’s head disappeared under the desk. Stiles and Danny both cringed at the slurping sounds from under the table.

 

“Probably a good idea.”

 

Stiles closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on as many minds as he could find in the room. He didn’t want a repeat performance of Harris’ awakening. It would be much better if he could woke everyone up at once. Sensing that he needed the extra boost, Danny reached over and gripped Stiles’ hand in his own.

 

Instantly Stiles felt the minds of his fellow classmates being ensnared in his own. His mouth watered at the power that having Danny connected to him provided. If just one slave could give him that much power than Stiles could only dream what a second one would provide.

 

Or three.

 

Or a dozen.

 

Or the whole school.

 

Hell, Beacon Hills was a small town. No one would miss it.

 

Stiles shook his head at the idea. That was a bad road to travel down. One that many other supernatural bad guys had tried and only through the quick actions of Derek and his Pack had kept them from succeeding. Stiles didn’t want to be one of those threats… no matter how tempting a proposition.

 

Stiles needed to get back in control of his ability before his demon instincts took over again. He latched on to the memory of how awful he’d felt at having dragged Danny into his Succubus business. Stiles dipped into his greatest fears and pictured Derek being forced to kill him; the cost to Derek and their packmates at putting down one of their own. He thought about how disappointed his father would be in him. How horrified his mother would have been.

 

And then Stiles was back in the driver’s seat. He focused on finding the pleasure buttons in his classmates and started pressing down. Hard.

 

The room was instantly blanketed in the smells of candy, spices and a plethora of different meats that only Stiles could smell. The loud moaning alone would probably attract a teacher from a nearby classroom. Stiles opened his eyes and watched as the rest of the class slowly came back to themselves. Almost everyone was wearing red on their cheeks in recognition of the compromising positions and soiled clothing they were all in.

 

“What the fuck just happened?” Scott asked into the weighted silence.

 

Jackson licked at the shiny substance on his lips before a high-pitched whine escaped his throat. “Is this what I think it is?”

 

Scott sniffed the air before wearing a panicked expression that matched the one on Jackson’s perfectly chiseled features.

 

“Wow,” Stiles said loudly, gathering all the focus to him. “That pheromone experiment went really badly, huh? Guess that’s the last time Harris will try and teach us about animal mating being all about body chemicals.”

 

Danny shook his head at the lame cover up but knew in the end people would much rather have an excuse – even one as pathetic as that one – than to think their actions were their own. There was a reason werewolves hadn’t been discovered yet in spite of Derek’s less than subtle exploits. Plus it wasn’t like anyone was going to be talking about what happened in Physics to their friends that day. In the end, if anyone had any doubts about why they’d be learning about pheromones in a Physics class, they kept it to themselves.

 

Everyone except for Scott and Jackson that is.

 

As soon as the final bell had rung for the day, the Pack met up in the parking lot. Stiles and Danny were surprised to find that the rest of their packmates had already been filled in on the happenings in Physics class.

 

“Come on, we’re all going to Derek’s right away,” Scott ordered in his Head-Beta-In-Charge voice as he helped Allison into Stiles’ jeep. He climbed in after her and politely let Danny take shotgun. It would have been sweet if the prospect weren’t absolutely terrifying.

 

“What? Why?” Stiles asked, panicked. For all he knew Derek could smell the succubus in him from a mile away. It was the whole reason he’d been trying to keep at least ten miles between them since he came back.

 

Allison gave him a look that clearly doubted his level of intelligence. “What do you mean what? How about because of what happened in your class today?”

 

Danny spared Stiles a cautious look. “You think it’s something supernatural?”

 

“You think I let Jackson blow me for some other reason?” Scott shot back before immediately blushing.

 

“I thought we agreed it was the pheromones?” Stiles interjected, flailing with his enthusiasm for the cover up story.

 

Scott wasn’t buying. “That’s still the lamest story you’ve ever told, dude. Even _I_ knew it was bullshit.” He paused as he thought back to the offending class. “Though I guess it was pretty quick thinking.”

 

Allison patted Stiles on the shoulder while giving Danny a sympathetic look. “I know it must be embarrassing to talk about what happened to you two in class but that’s no reason to ignore the situation. Whatever caused it could be dangerous.” She nodded her head towards the end of the parking lot where Jackson’s sports car was speeding out onto the road. “Lydia’s already coming up with a list of creatures from the bestiary that can do stuff like that. Whatever it is, the Pack will find it and kill it.”

 

“Good idea,” Danny muttered, throwing a decidedly ‘told-you-so’ look at the succubus next to him.

 

“Great,” Stiles croaked out his agreement before starting the car. “Let’s go see Derek.”


	6. Comfort Food

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major angst warning ahead.
> 
> Though I do promise a happy ending (in more ways than one lol) by the end of the fic.
> 
> One more angsty chapter after this and then we're back on board the smut train ;)

The drive to the Hale House hadn’t intimidated Stiles so much since their sophomore year. The little looks of concern that Danny kept sending Stiles’ way really weren’t helping. Stiles had enough to deal with. His secret was going to be revealed. His Pack might turn against him. It was the nightmare Stiles had been having ever since he’d let his Sire change him.

 

Scott squeezed his shoulder making Stiles jump and swing the wheel. The Jeep veered dangerously across the double yellow lines before Danny reached over and straightened them out.

 

“Dude,” Scott remarked, eyes wide. His hand hovered just above Stiles’ shoulder where he’d pulled it back in surprise. “I was just checking to see if you’re okay. You’re leaking fear all over the place.”

 

“He’s not the only one,” Allison added from next to him in the backseat. Her hand still had a death grip on the Oh-Shit handle.

 

Stiles choked down a nervous laugh. The edge of a panic attack felt only a stone’s throw away. “Sorry. I… I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.”

 

“Just breathe, Stiles.”

 

Danny used his free hand to rub Stiles’ shoulder. He may not have been as skilled at using the link between them as Stiles but Danny put up a good show. The skin on his neck tingled where Danny’s surprisingly strong thumb pressed down and rubbed against the muscles sheathed beneath. The tension was slowly being absorbed and banished from Stiles’ body until the panic had dissipated completely.

 

The rest of the ride to the Hale House was spent in an uncomfortable silence. Danny made sure to keep steady contact with him at all times. Scott kept trying to outdo the level of intense staring that Danny had already perfected. Surprisingly it was Allison who kept making things worse. It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t like Allison knew that trying to start a conversation about what happened in science class was like lobbing a verbal grenade in Stiles’ direction.

 

“You two go ahead,” Danny instructed once they’d pulled up to the renovated home. “I think Stiles and I need a minute.”

 

Allison nodded knowingly before dragging her protesting boyfriend out of the car behind her. Stiles appreciated Scott’s concern but in that moment he wanted nothing more than to see his furry friend’s behind headed in the opposite direction. Danny seemed to be of a similar mind based on the tan boy’s sigh of relief when the couple finally disappeared into the mansion.

 

“How are you?” Danny asked as he freed himself from the confines of his seatbelt. As soon as the constrictive device was off of him, Danny was sliding across the jeep and straddling Stiles.

 

Stiles smirked half-heartedly up into Danny’s concern face. “Like you can’t feel it for yourself.”

 

Danny covered Stiles’ mouth with his hand. He gave the slimmer teen a stern look. “No talking dirty, baby. You wouldn’t want to make our supernatural friends feel anymore awkward than they already do.”

 

“Of course,” Stiles agreed, instantly more alert after his almost slip up. He nodded against Danny’s palm to show he’d read his message loud and clear. In his panic Stiles had forgotten that just because they were alone in the car, didn’t mean that one (or more) of their friends weren’t listening in.

 

Danny slowly drew back his hand. A second later and the offending appendage was pushing its way under Stiles’ shirt and tracing gentle swirls into the skin on his hip. “Your heartbeat is slowing down finally.”

 

Stiles lifted his head up far enough to burrow against Danny’s firm chest. “Thanks to you.”

 

“You could always talk about it,” Danny suggested quietly. There was no doubt in Stiles mind that his friend wasn’t talking about the panic attacks.

 

The urge to sigh miserably was too strong to resist. So Stiles went ahead and did it anyway. When Stiles had first explained the whole I’m-a-Succubus-now thing to Danny they’d discussed at length about telling the Pack as well. No matter how much Stiles argued that it was his secret to keep, his cross to bear, Danny kept insisting that honesty was the best policy. Clearly the hacker had little experience embracing self-delusion. Luckily Stiles was well versed enough in avoidance for the both of them.

 

“We’ve talked about this,” Stiles answered finally. A wave of annoyance shot through their bond from both ends. “And I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to that.”

 

Danny smiled innocently before dragging his nails teasingly up and down Stiles’ side. “I don’t know. I’m starting to like it.”

 

Stiles shuddered as the tips of Danny’s fingers played with the elastic waistband of his boxers. A stray thumb carded through the thin hairs of his happy trail. “Someone’s a quick study.”

 

“And here I thought you only wanted me for my body.”

 

“Who says I don’t?” Stiles teased finally reaching out and skimming his hands all over Danny’s tight clothes. He bit back a moan as Danny’s pleasure echoed back along the link to him. If Danny’s touch was a medication for his panic attacks than doing the touching himself was a freaking miracle cure.

 

A harsh knock on the window interrupted their pleasant session of caresses.

 

“If you two are done?” Derek’s trademark angry tones asked from just outside of the car.

 

Stiles tensed before hiding his face on the other side of Danny’s wide chest. Thankfully the Alpha seemed more interested in stalking off to his house than sniffing over the car. Judging by the amused look on Danny’s face, Derek was most likely trying _not_ to use his super senses near the jeep. At least Stiles hoped that was the case.

 

Danny pulled away so that he could properly look Stiles in the eyes. “Ready to face the music?”

 

“No,” Stiles answered honestly. He looked down to find that his fingers had once more entangled themselves between Danny’s. “But I don’t see any way out of it.”

 

“Maybe it won’t be so bad,” Danny suggested, his hope doing battle against Stiles’ dread along the metaphysical link.

 

In the end Stiles grudgingly allowed himself to be dragged from the car. He briefly contemplated the idea of turning tail and running. Unfortunately his hands were traitorous little bastards that kept defecting to Danny’s control and linking them together. Each time Stiles tried to shift away he’d find himself being tugged even closer to the Hale House.

 

Both boys blushed when they spotted the rest of the cars parked at the entrance. Apparently they’d been so wrapped up in each other that they’d missed the arrival of the rest of their packmates. Stiles wondered at what point in their body explorations that Jackson and Lydia had shown up.

 

“Looks like we’re the last ones,” Danny muttered as they walked up the front stairs.

 

“Yes, you are,” Derek confirmed in his voice-of-doom. The irritation was clear even with the closed front door still between them.

 

Stiles motioned Danny forward with his free hand. “After you.”

 

Danny rolled his eyes before opening the door and practically shoving Stiles ahead of him. Stiles stumbled across the threshold with all of his usual fumbling grace. Succubus poise was apparently no match for teenage nerves. After making sure he didn’t brain himself on any hard surfaces, Stiles straightened up to find the entire Pack gathered in the living room. Scott and Jackson were pointedly looking away from their direction while the rest were practically leering at them. Erica went so far as to make mini humping motions into poor Isaac’s side. Stiles could see Allison in the kitchen talking to someone on her cell phone. She winked as he caught her eye before turning away to focus on her conversation.

 

“Sorry we’re late,” Stiles spluttered out nervously.

 

Derek sent a glare their way before stalking out of the room to join Allison in the kitchen. With his Alpha gone, Jackson took it upon himself to respond. He opened his mouth for what Stiles was sure would have been a scathing retort but Lydia quickly shut his jaw with her free hand. The move was made even more impressive by the fact that she hadn’t even bothered to look up from her reading materials to do it.

 

“Some of us actually have to focus and do _research_.”

 

“Why are you mad at me?” Jackson huffed. “They’re the ones making out.”

 

Lydia rolled her eyes. “They _were_ making out. But now you’re the one interrupting my very important work by making fun of them. So cut it out.”

 

The red head added a sharp pinch to her boyfriend’s side with what Stiles assumed were the tips of her claws. Boyd smirked at the indignant squawk that came out of Jackson’s mouth but quickly straightened up when Lydia glared in his direction. Apparently no one was going to escape Lydia’s wrath when she was in full on research mode.

 

Deciding to play it safe Stiles let Danny lead him over to the loveseat. Even after they were seated Danny made sure to keep a steady physical connection with Stiles. After a few minutes of constant touching, the Pack finally stopped giving them sideways glances and companionable winks. The only one who kept giving the pair strange looks was Derek.

 

Which only made Stiles even more nervous that they were about to be found out. Judging by the bits of panic leaking through Danny’s side of the link he wasn’t the only one who had noticed the Alpha’s focus on them. Of course the hacker was more skilled at hiding his concern.

 

Stiles tended to flinch every time that Derek inhaled. And not just deep, scenting flares of the nostrils either. No, Stiles pulled off a full body jump whenever Derek so much as breathed the air from his side of the living room. Apparently it was even less subtle than he’d thought since Scott kept sending him concerned looks and Lydia was growing increasingly frustrated with the constant interruptions. Plus Stiles’ heart was pounding loud enough that he could barely stand it let alone his friends in the room with super hearing.

 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Jackson demanded loudly after Stiles practically fell off the couch when Derek passed by him to get Peter’s laptop for Lydia. “You haven’t been this jumpy since that time with the sugar.” He narrowed his eyes at Danny. “Did you give him candy? We made a pact, man!”

 

“Leave him alone, Jacks,” Danny snapped, shifting closer to Stiles so that their sides could press more firmly against one another. “Way to be insensitive. He already told us the doctors were messing with his medications. Remember?”

 

Stiles had never been so appreciative of Danny’s ability to mislead a werewolf. Then Danny’s fingers curled around the back of his neck. Suddenly Stiles had a whole new reason to want to bow down and worship him. At the more blatant touch Danny’s endless Zen state started to leak across their bond. Stiles practically slumped back into the seat cushions as his whole body relaxed and went limp.

 

“So that explains the scent,” Derek commented as he came back down the stairs with Peter’s computer cradled in his arms. “I thought you smelled… off.”

 

“I think you mean awesome,” Erica corrected with a sly grin. She made a point of sniffing the air in Stiles’ direction and letting out a pleased sound. “I want to bottle that and sell it.”

 

Isaac laughed. “You sound like you’re getting high off of his scent.”

 

Erica shoved him playfully. “At least I wasn’t the one taking hits off the back of his head in Calculus.”

 

The curly haired boy blushed. “Did not.”

 

“Can we stop talking about my scent please?” Stiles begged. The last thing he wanted was the conversation to lead to any difficult questions. So far the medication excuse was holding but all it would take were a few more clues and Stiles was willing to bet that Lydia or Derek would piece the truth together.

 

“Yeah,” Danny agreed quickly, pulling the succubus further into his side. “No one gets to smell him but me.”

 

Derek tilted his head to the side. Stiles had learned fairly early on that many of the wolves made the same motion when they were using their enhanced hearing. Sure enough a moment passed and then Derek dropped his head back into its usual position and nodded at the kitchen. “Allison has something for us.”

 

Allison didn’t seem surprised in the slightest to reenter the room with everyone already looking at her with expectant expressions. “So my Dad thinks we’ve got some kind of Incubus or Succubus on our hands. Or possibly a Siren.”

 

“That’s what I’ve found so far as well,” Lydia agreed. “Only I ruled out a Siren because so far everything’s been sexual in nature and no one has tried to kill themselves afterwards.”

 

“What’s a succubus?” Scott asked.

 

Jackson chuckled. “Don’t you have any taste in porn, McCall? Even I know what a succubus is.”

 

Derek growled. “You only think you know what a succubus is. Or rather what a human would think of their kind.” He gestured at himself. “How accurate have the films on werewolves been?”

 

“Pretty damn accurate,” Stiles muttered into Danny’s neck.

 

Danny was the only other person in the room to laugh but only because Allison was too far away to hear him. It was a running joke among the humans that the wolves refused to be compared to any of their depictions in popular cinema. Derek was especially irritated by any Twilight comparisons. Stiles thought that was particularly frustrating since he could write odes to both Derek and Jacob’s abs… and their aversion of shirts.

 

Jackson crossed his arms in challenge. “So they don’t fuck people to death?”

 

“They do _what?_ ” Scott asked, eyes wide.

 

Lydia smirked. “He’s got you there, Alpha.”

 

“There’s more to them than that,” Derek replied. “Peter had only glowing things to say about the one he met.”

 

“He would.” Lydia said with a scowl. She had yet to forgive Peter for any of his actions during their sophomore year. Not that anyone could blame her for holding a grudge. Half the time Stiles still wanted to chuck another Molotov cocktail in the older man’s direction.

 

“Wait. Peter actually met one before?” Allison asked, confused. “My dad said they were really rare.”

 

Derek nodded. “Almost as unheard of as a Kanima.”

 

Danny used his free hand to start taking notes on his iPad. “So how did Peter meet one?”

 

“He used to travel,” Derek answered with his usual brevity. At the irritated looks from his packmates he added a terse, “A lot.”

 

Lydia started to click her pen out of frustration. “That explains why his notes on supernatural creatures are so extensive. He has more details than even the Argent Bestiary.”

 

That snagged Stiles’ attention pretty quickly. So far the Argent’s notes on his species hadn’t led to a lot of options on dealing with his ‘condition’. Perhaps Peter had some other information.

 

“That’s not so surprising actually,” Stiles said instead. “I mean hunters can only gleam so much from torture and hunting patterns. Presumably Peter interacted with all of these creatures on a friendly level so he’d have better information… right?”

 

“That’s what I said,” Derek complained.

 

“Sure you did,” Stiles snarked. His fear had disappeared momentarily in the face of real hope for a way to handle his Succubus-problem without killing himself.

 

Derek’s eyes flashed red.

 

“In your own way, I mean,” Stiles said in an attempt to placate the irritated werewolf. “Mine just actually made sense to everyone else in the room.”

 

“Can we get back to the part where these things sex people to death?” Scott demanded. He cast a nervous look in Jackson’s direction. “Does it have to be sex with one of these Succubus things or does it kill you if they make you do it with someone else too?”

 

Surprisingly Lydia didn’t seem to mind that her boyfriend had gotten his mouth on her best friend’s boyfriend’s dick. Judging by the small smirk on her lips Lydia was actually finding the whole thing rather amusing. “Don’t worry, Scott. You and Jackson aren’t going to keel over just because you couldn’t keep your dicks to yourselves.”

 

Despite the bravado in his tone, Jackson’s cheeks erupted into twin splashes of crimson. “Don’t act like it wasn’t the best head you’ve ever gotten, McCall.”

 

Scott was saved from his spluttering by Allison snuggling into his side. She pressed a kiss to the infamous jaw line before offering Jackson a sly smile. “Is that a challenge, Jackson?”

 

 _“Allison,”_ Scott hissed.

 

“Yes, Allison, don’t embarrass our boys,” Lydia said in a falsely agreeable voice. Scott and Jackson visibly relaxed at having someone come to their aid. Stiles thought they should have known better. “There’s always time for a blow job competition _after_ we’ve caught this Incubus.”

 

Erica cackled at the shocked looks on the boys’ faces.

 

Boyd decided to take pity on his packmates. “And how exactly do we go about capturing an Incubus?”

 

Isaac frowned. “Can we just choose one name? I’m getting confused. Is it a Succubus or is it an Incubus we’re after?”

 

“Could be either, really,” Derek answered with a lazy shrug.

 

“An Incubus feeds off of women and a Succubus feeds from men,” Lydia continued the explanation when it became apparent that their Alpha wasn’t going to do it. “For simplicity’s sake we’ll just stick with Succubus. As for Boyd’s question… the real problem isn’t capturing the thing. According to these notes from Allison’s family they’re quite difficult to kill.”

 

“What about Peter’s writing?” Allison asked. “Any good tactical info in there?”

 

Lydia frowned down at the page. She pinched the papers by the corners as if touching them were causing her actual, physical discomfort. “Most of Peter’s notes are on their sexual prowess. Apparently you haven’t lived until you’ve been one of their sex-snacks.”

 

Scott shook his head. “But I though that’s how they kill?”

 

“Setting aside the fact that Peter has a penchant for overcoming death,” Lydia answered with a gleam of danger in her eyes. “It would have taken more than one round in the sack to kill him. Like all creatures, a succubus feeds off of the life force of their victim. Humans die long before they’re completely drained because their bodies can’t handle the stress of so much sex and over-stimulation. Other supernatural beings with healing abilities, such as werewolves, can survive the entire process up until the point their life force is drained entirely.” She squinted at the window as she thought over the implications of the information. “I wonder how many seemingly healthy young people who die in their sleep are actually victims of a Succubus?”

 

Allison must have spotted the confusion on her boyfriend’s face since she quickly picked up the trail of Lydia’s explanation. “If there’s one thing my Hunter lessons with my Dad has taught me, it’s that the supernatural and science aren’t too different. All supernatural creatures – just like any animal in the food chain – feed off of something else in order to gain energy necessary for living. Human beings have a purity of soul that makes their life force the most abundant sustenance. What differs is how these creatures access that life force.”

 

“Werewolves eat flesh,” Lydia said, continuing the tag team explanation with her friend. “Vampires drink blood. Empaths feed off of strong emotions. Demons from the torment they cause their host. Succubi use lust and sex.”

 

“So what makes them so hard to kill?” Isaac asked.

 

“They’re not half-human like most creatures of the night,” Allison answered. “They don’t share our mortal weaknesses. It’s also why there are so few of them out there. Not everyone can be turned into a Succubus.”

 

Erica sighed. “So they don’t maim and drain like our usual trespassers. Doesn’t that mean they’re not going to cause as much trouble?”

 

“Normally Succubi aren’t a big problem. Most of their victims are volunteers so Hunters don’t have a reason to go after them.” Allison sent an apologetic look at Scott and Jackson. “But that’s not always the case. Sometimes a newly turned one will go out of control and do some damage. Other times they’ll go power hungry and start enslaving people.”

 

Erica looked considerably less considerate towards the sex demon community. “They can enslave people?”

 

Lydia nodded. “According to Peter.”

 

“Even werewolves?” Boyd asked. He turned his head to direct the question at his Alpha.

 

Derek shrugged. “Consent. They’d need your consent.”

 

Allison frowned down at the Bestiary. “Gerard’s notes don’t say anything about that.”

 

“That man left out something good about a creature he’s hunting? Shocking,” Jackson said with an impressive eye roll. “It’s almost like he’s biased.”

 

“Leave the sarcasm to the professionals, Jacks,” Danny interjected, patting Stiles’ thigh pointedly. Stiles didn’t need the link to tell how interested Danny was to hear more about the master-slave bond they’d inadvertently started. “Derek what else can you tell us about the whole consent thing?”

 

“Most of what I know is from the stories Peter used to tell us when our parents were out of ear shot.” The Alpha nodded at the laptop in Lydia’s arms. “It should all be in there.”

 

Danny frowned at him. “Surely you know more than that?”

 

Derek frowned right back. “Why would I?”

 

“Because for a rare creature you seem to know a lot about it,” Danny replied.

 

“He’s right, Derek,” Erica added. Her eyes narrowed into slits of suspicion. “It’s almost like you wanted to run into one.”

 

Derek crossed his arms and flashed some fang at the room. “Not this one.”

 

“Why not this one?” Stiles asked defensively.

 

He’d tried to stay quiet. He’d tried not to draw any attention to himself in the middle of such a dangerous topic of conversation. Stiles had even passed up a few choice quips that would have paid Jackson back for all those hits at the pool the other day. But there was something about Derek getting all picky over his presence in Beacon Hills that really set his territorial instincts into high alert.

 

Derek didn’t look impressed by the outburst. “Because this one is out of control and needs to be put down.”

 

“And how do you know that?” Danny pressed.

 

“Because a Succubus that was actually in control of their abilities wouldn’t turn a room full of hormone filled teenagers into an orgy,” Derek bit out through clenched fangs. “They don’t abuse their abilities like that. Only the most notorious ones have ever acted that way.”

 

Lydia looked intrigued by the explanation. “Notorious? You mean some have made the history books?”

 

Derek seemed surprised that she hadn’t understood that. “Of course. Haven’t you ever heard of Aphrodite? Dionysus?”

 

“Aphrodite?” Erica gasped. “The Goddess of Love?”

 

“And Dionysus is the God of Wine, right?” Allison asked.

 

Derek nodded. “He’s also the God of Ecstasy and Ritual Madness.”

 

“Three guesses how he got those titles,” Jackson muttered.

 

Lydia scanned Peter’s notes for the two mythical gods. “Both of them were known for sex cults and worshippers from all walks of life. I suppose they were all enslaved?”

 

“Most likely,” Derek answered. “Dionysus’ last orgy ended in the deaths of over 100 of his worshippers from what the humans thought to be exhaustion. The hunters got him for that one, of course.”

 

Isaac whistled in appreciation. “That’s a lot of sex.”

 

Boyd, as usual, was left to get them back on track. “So how did the hunters kill Dionysus if he’d just fed off of all those people? They’re hard to kill on a good day, right?”

 

“Peter doesn’t say but the Argent claim the only method is to starve them to death,” Lydia murmured, still scanning over the pages for the salient details. “Though they lost two guards while keeping the Succubus locked up. Apparently when their body starts to decay their base instincts take over and they’ll try to lure any nearby humans in to feed from.”

 

Scott’s confused face made an encore appearance. “But I thought they needed consent?”

 

“Did you consent to Jackson blowing you?” Erica pointed out.

 

“What? No. Of course not.”

 

“It doesn’t have to be informed consent,” Derek explained with a huff. “Succubi are dangerous because all they need is to build on the smallest of subconscious desires and they have you.”

 

“Are you saying he _secretly_ wanted me to blow him?” Jackson asked, incredulous.

 

Scott scowled at him. “That means you wanted to blow me, too, asshole.”

 

Lydia sighed, disappointedly. “Oh, yes, I can see how there’s zero sexual tension between the two of you. None at all.”

 

That shut the two of them up quickly.

 

“We’re horny teenagers with superpowers,” Erica said to everyone’s surprise. No one had expected her to be the one to jump to the defense of the two boys. “Can anyone here honestly say that they’ve never thought about doing the nasty with someone else in the Pack?” Her trademark grin slid into place at the same time she started wagging her eyebrows suggestively. “Or all of the Pack for that matter?”

 

It was Derek that finally broke the awkward silence. “We need to find this Succubus before it gets anymore out of control. That should be our focus right now.”

 

“Shouldn’t we first try to find out _why_ it’s acting so strangely?” Lydia asked. “You said yourself that this behavior isn’t normal.”

 

“We don’t need to understand this thing to know it’s a threat,” Derek answered with a note of finality. “Scott, I want you and Isaac to check in with Deaton during your next shift at the clinic. Find out if he has any other information on Incubi and Succubi.”

 

He turned his attention to the rest of the Pack. “The rest of you should keep an eye out at school for anything else out of the ordinary. The Succubus will probably be drawn there anyway with so much easy prey walking around.” His eyes flashed red as a new threat crossed his mind. “Stay in pairs outside of school as well. We don’t want this Succubus to get control of any of the Pack.”

 

“Stiles and I will stick together,” Danny volunteered quickly. He pointedly ignored the gagging noises Jackson made in response.

 

“Lydia can stay a few nights at my house,” Allison added. “Especially since there’s no way that my Dad will let Scott in the house let alone in my room for bodyguard duty.”

 

Jackson grimaced. “But she’s _my_ girlfriend.”

 

“Don’t worry, Jacks,” Danny replied. “You and McCall can bunk up instead.”

 

“Shut up, _Daniel_ ,” Jackson shot back irritably.

 

Boyd pulled Erica even closer to him. “Dibs.”

 

Isaac rolled his eyes before glancing at Derek. “Looks like it’s you and me, Alpha.”

 

“Meeting adjourned?” Stiles asked eagerly. He barely waited for Derek’s nod of approval before jumping off the sofa and dragging Danny out the front door with him. He managed a quick wave over his shoulder to the Pack on his way out. “See you tomorrow!”

 

*

 

Stiles and Danny argued the entire drive back to the Stilinski residence. They kept it to pointed looks and expressive eyebrows while still within hearing range of the Hale House. Once they were free of the woods they’re arguments turned to urgent whispers and a few arm punches. But it wasn’t until they’d entered Stiles’ house and closed his bedroom door behind them that they really had it out.

 

In the end it kept boiling down to the same argument over and over again.

 

“You have to tell them.”

 

“No, I really don’t.”

 

“Stiles.”

 

“Daniel.”

 

“Hey!” Danny snapped. “Only Jackson gets to call me that.”

 

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Touchy about your first name? Please. You’re talking to the originator of that particular quirk, buddy.”

 

Danny smirked. “And _you’re_ talking to the guy who could hack into the Social Security Administration’s database and find out your _real_ first name in all of ten minutes flat.”

 

“You wouldn’t dare.”

 

“Try me.”

 

Being in a stalemate with Danny was becoming something of a constant in Stiles’ life. One that Stiles’ inner succubus was having a difficult time coming to grips with. He’d always been a fair person before the change. But now there was something in the back of his mind whispering how Danny was _his_ , belonged to _him_. Each time Danny put up a fight about coming clean to the others that same voice wanted to push back. Danny was supposed to be his support. He wasn’t supposed to be giving the orders and or issuing threats – even ones without any real bite.

 

Stiles barely managed to keep his hands, already painfully clenched into a fist, at his sides and away from Danny’s person. Resisting the urge to touch skin and bring Danny to heel was giving Stiles a headache… and a guilty conscience.

 

“It’s not up to you,” Stiles said instead. “It’s not your business.”

 

“Not my business?” Danny asked. “Not. My. Business. You must be joking. Even if we weren’t bound together at the supernatural hip we’d still be in the same Pack, Stiles. If this had happened to any of the others you’d want to know right away. You’d have made it your business.”

 

The headache grew worse. Stiles knew that Danny was making sense but he couldn’t quite manage to agree. “But it didn’t happen to anyone else. It happened to _me_. So it’s my choice whether or not to say anything.”

 

Danny shook his head in disbelief. “If you’re not going to come clean than I will.”

 

Stiles’ vision started to blur from the building pressure. “No. You won’t.”

 

“People could get hurt,” Danny said, pleading for his friend to see reason. “You heard what Lydia and the others said about your kind. Let’s face it, Stiles, you got lucky that I was the one you tied to you.” He reached out and took a gentle hold of the slimmer teen’s sleeve. “We’ve tried doing this by ourselves and look how that turned out.”

 

Stiles’ eyes were fixed on the hand grapping at his sleeve. A dull roar pounded in his ears. The pressure behind his eyeballs grew painful. His stomach squirmed in discomfort at the audacity of Danny to turn against him and physically challenge him at the same time. In the end there they shouldn’t have been so surprised that Stiles hadn’t been able to hold back the urges that took hold of him.

 

There was a blur of movement and then Danny was flat on his back, pressed into Stiles’ mattress by the owner himself. Danny blinked up at him in surprise – and not a little bit of fear – before Stiles captured his mouth with his own. Any protests the hacker may have had were forgotten in a sudden need to submit. Danny opened his mouth a little wider and Stiles rewarded him with some tongue and feathery strokes along his sides. A gentle nudge at the back of his mind and Danny was spreading his legs. Both boys moaned as their forms slotted into one another. Danny went from mildly aroused to painfully erect within seconds.

 

He was so distracted by trying to thrust up against Stiles and relieve some pressure that it took him a bit to realize Stiles was talking to him.

 

“What?” Danny asked, pulling back and blinking up at him through his hormone induced daze. “What are you saying?”

 

“Can’t tell,” Stiles muttered against his lips. “Not anyone.”

 

“Can’t stop me,” Danny argued back before redoubling his efforts to get release. Stiles had stopped responding with thrusts of his own. Danny grunted in frustration as the pressure at the base of his cock only increased.

 

Stiles’ lips stretched into a grin before licking wet swirls around Danny’s prominent Adam’s Apple. “Oh? I think you’ll find that I can.”

 

Danny tilted his head further back to give Stiles better access. “Not playing fair.”

 

“Who’s playing?” Stiles replied.

 

The Succubus took a page out of all that werewolf porn he’d pretended not to read when doing research for the Pack and tore open Danny’s tight polo. For every fresh inch of tanned flesh revealed, Danny felt his balls tighten. It was like reliving the nightmare of frustration after the strip club all over again.

 

Only this time Stiles was doing it on purpose.

 

The sudden surge of anger and betrayal broke Danny free of the fog that had been clouding his mind. “This isn’t going to make anything better, Stiles.”

 

“It’ll make you shut up,” Stiles practically growled into his navel before ruthlessly shoving a hand down Danny’s pants. Nimble fingers circled the base of Danny’s sack before closing his pointer and thumb together in a makeshift sex ring. Stiles’ remaining fingers massaged the heavy weight of his balls until Danny shouted senselessly through his orgasm. His cock rocked in spasms but without any creamy finish; not with Stiles’ complete control over his body and strategic hand placement.

 

“ _Please,_ ” Danny panted his request.

 

“Only once you agree not to tell,” Stiles demanded.

 

Danny shook his head into the thick pillow holding him up. He tried to reach down and stroke himself but couldn’t gather enough energy to do so. Danny suspected it had less to do with his energy level and more about Stiles’ hold on his will power to fight back. After all this was what Danny went to those special clubs for. He liked giving up control. He liked trusting his inevitable release to someone who cared about him. But the idea that said control had been handed over to the Stiles from the strip club and not his _friend_ -Stiles was moving away from the comfortable boundaries he’d set up for himself.

 

“Consent,” Danny managed to bite out. The reminder of Lydia’s lecture only brought Stiles’ hand ever firmer against him. “You need it.”

 

“And I’ll have it,” Stiles vowed. There was an element of ruthlessness in his expression – a dark certainty in his voice – that let Danny know he’d already lost. “I can feel it, Danny. I can feel how badly you want to cum.”

 

Danny tried to plead for that release but could only jerk and moan with abandon.

 

“Tell me,” Stiles commanded in a seductive whisper. Warm lips trailed lazy kisses down Danny’s firm chest. A nose buried itself in the barely there dusting of hair leading into his tight jeans. The Succubus used his free hand to unbuckle the belt before sliding the restrictive clothing (and the boxers underneath) down to Danny’s knees.

 

“Tell me,” Stiles said again. Only this time with his warmth of his breath covering the tip of Danny’s dick like clouds hovered around mountaintops. “Tell me and I’ll let you cum.”

 

It took all of Danny’s will power to shake his head a second time. He’d barely managed to turn his head before the searing heat of Stiles’ mouth devoured him whole. The fingers that had tortured him were gone and Danny screamed as he flooded Stiles’ mouth with his release. Stiles moaned and the vibrations had Danny’s entire body jerking with the aftershocks of his orgasm. If not for the pants around his knees holding his legs down and together, Danny might have done Stiles some serious injury.

 

By the time his body finished shaking Danny felt as if Stiles had sucked more out of him than just his sperm. Danny had spent most of his freshman year in a gym craze with Jackson. If that year hadn’t taught him what it felt like to exercise your body to the brink of exhaustion than running suicide drills for Coach after a bad practice certainly had. So Danny knew full well that the pleasant burn in his muscles was so much more than that. Even more telling was the feeling of utter contentment, pride even, that echoed through his body at the thought that he’d fed his master.

 

“And here I thought you were going to use that against me,” Danny said finally. Even after clearing his voice twice Danny still sounded hoarse after his vocal enjoyment of the exercise in sexual extortion. “Not that I’m complaining about the punishment, of course.”

 

Stiles lapped at the thin layer of sweat that coated Danny’s impressive abs. He made a series of disappointed noises as he slowly made his way back up to Danny’s face. The confident grin being aimed in Danny’s direction had the hacker tensing up all over again.

 

“Danny, Danny, Danny,” Stiles chided. “I’m a Succubus, remember? The very least I can do is make you not cum. I mean really that’s just punishment for both of us.” Fingers danced down Danny’s chest as if Stiles were trying to mimic a spider’s motions. “Do you know how my Sire convinced me to say yes to him?” Stiles ignored Danny’s garbled protests in favor of stroking the over sensitive penis until it returned to its previous erect state. “He didn’t withhold sex. My Sire made me cum again and again and again until I said yes.”

 

Danny gasped as a second orgasm – an impossible orgasm – built once more at the base of his cock. The sensation was much more intense the second time around. Every touch of skin against his hard flesh sent additional shudders racing through Danny’s body. And still the urge to say no, to beg Stiles to stop never made it past his kiss-swollen lips. His body turned against him in favor of his master’s touch and hunger until he lost count of how many meals Stiles was able to make out of him.

 

Finally he blacked out.

 

*

 

Danny had no idea how much time had gone by before he woke up again. He remembered flashes of consciousness from the few moments he struggled awake. He remembered Stiles’ seductive words vibrating along his skin and across their bond. He remembered the mix of pleasure and pain from cumming again and again.

 

But this time was different. For the first time that day Danny woke up without Stiles’ body cradling his own.

 

His jeans had been abandoned to the floor but his boxers had been tugged back over his crotch. A faint blush appeared on Danny’s cheeks as he realized how long he’d been exposed to the world. For the bravado needed to shower in front of Beacon Hills’ unreasonably attractive varsity lacrosse team, Danny wasn’t much of an exhibitionist. Not even his new role as a walking talking meal for a sex demon was going to change that.

 

Danny groaned as he sat up too fast. More accurately he tried to sit up and failed completely. He was shocked to be left panting after a sit up when his body was used to doing a hundred at a time. Danny was more careful in his second attempt at movement. Rolling across the bed was easier – not by much – but at least it got him off the bed… even if he did accidentally roll completely off of it and smack into the hard floor below.

 

“Stiles,” Danny grunted into the floor. He sent out a silent prayer that his Stiles and not evil-Stiles was back in control. At least Danny assumed that was the case since he’d stopped being used as a human Lunchable. He managed a shout the second time.

 

No one answered.

 

“Typical.”

 

Danny took his time peeling himself off the floor and into a sitting position. He hadn’t felt so attached to the ground since that practice where Greenberg lost control and plowed them both into the goalie’s net. In that instance he’d had the excuse of a sprained wrist for moving so slowly. At least this time Greenberg wasn’t trapping him with his clumsy ass self.

 

He used the bedside table to very slowly leverage himself up. The wall made an excellent crutch for him as he made his way into the hallway. Though Danny could definitely have done with less furniture to dodge. Each time Danny had to slide around a bureau or a side table was like scaling the side of a cliff without a rope. The way he saw it, Stiles owed him one so if Danny happened to break a few decorative items along the way than the Stilinski’s were just going to have to deal.

 

It was the crying that caught his attention.

 

Danny gripped the frame around the bathroom door with one hand and searched for the bathroom light switch with the other. When his eyes finally adjusted to the abundance of artificial light Danny found Stiles in the tub. Thankfully the water wasn’t on and all of Stiles’ clothes were still on. Regrettably Stiles was trying (and failing) to keep his red eyes and wet cheeks from the other teen.

 

“Stiles?” Danny asked, clumsily moving forward. He stumbled onto the toilet seat which offered a decent sightline on Stiles. When his friend still hadn’t responded, Danny decided to take Stiles’ lead and try inappropriate humor. “Shouldn’t I be the one curled up in a corner and crying?”

 

Stiles flinched. “I’m sorry.”

 

Hearing the slimmer boy sniffle out an apology was bad enough. Having to feel the intense guilt and self-hatred through their bond was much, much worse. “It’s not your fault, Stiles. You lost control.”

 

“Lost control?” Stiles incredulous scoff was painful. “I nearly killed you!”

 

“Didn’t you say Scott tried to eat you one time?” Danny reminded him with a weak but hopeful grin. “Now that’s not to say I won’t kick your ass when I can, you know, walk again and all that. But maybe take it a little easier on yourself?”

 

Stiles’ voice was muffled as he buried his head into his clothed elbow. “You don’t even remember what I did, do you?”

 

Danny rolled his eyes. “The orgasms were pretty hard to forget.”

 

“Not the orgasms,” Stiles responded, avoiding Danny’s gaze. “The other stuff. Through the bonds.” He chanced a glance at Danny’s face when none of it seemed to ring a bell but quickly turned away again. He uttered a quiet curse under his breath. “You can’t tell anyone about me, Danny.”

 

“Look, man, I know you don’t want me to but – ”

 

“ – You don’t get it!” Stiles shouted. His eyes flashed with anger and – even more terrifying to Danny – pity. “I meant that you _literally_ can’t tell anyone. I used the bond the same way that I kept you from cumming that night at the strip club.”

 

Danny frowned in confusion. “What are you saying?”

 

Stiles eyed the ceiling and let out a weary sigh. “I mean that your body won’t let you tell my secret to anyone. No texting, no writing it down or even using sign language to say it.” He gave a hollow laugh. “Jesus, Danny, I don’t even think you could borrow a plane and skywrite it.”

 

“You sure?” Danny asked.

 

“Go ahead and try,” Stiles replied, gesturing in Danny’s general direction.

 

The goalie gave him the stink eye but still groped through his pockets for his cell phone anyway. Danny was perfectly fine letting Stiles wallow in his guilt trip – orgasms aside Stiles _did_ deserve some punishment for his earlier actions – if it meant he could finally let the Pack in on the whole Succubus thing. Danny flicked through the screens on his iPhone until he reached his favorites and clicked on Jackson’s name.

 

The phone rang twice before the clicking sound of a connection echoed over the line. It was quickly followed by Jackson’s loud voice. “Stilinski driving you up the wall yet?”

 

Danny clucked his tongue. “Why, Jackson? Nervous to be all alone with McCall in that big old house with those big old beds?”

 

“Not cool, shit head,” Jackson hissed. Danny had to strain to hear his best friend mutter something to Scott on the other side of the room. A few seconds later and Jackson’s voice came through at a normal level once more. “He was right next to me on the couch and he totally heard that, Danny.”

 

“Pretty sure that with his werewolf hearing Scott will be listening in no matter how close you two are sitting,” Danny replied with an eye roll.

 

Jackson swore. “Hold on.”

 

Danny tapped out a random beat against his thigh with his pointer finger as he listened to the muffled sounds of Jackson moving through his house. Stiles had given up tears in favor of wiping snot from his nose with the sleeves of his plaid button down. Danny tried not to read too much into it that Stiles kept avoiding his gaze.

 

Over the phone Danny could hear water turn on just before Jackson came back on the line. “He shouldn’t be able to hear us now.”

 

“Good cause I kind of have something important to talk to you about,” Danny replied. He ignored the way Stiles’ body went absolutely still. “It’s about Stiles – ”

 

“ – Ugh. Can we please talk about your boyfriends apparent sex skills another time?” Jackson interrupted with a pained groan. “I have a real situation here.”

 

“Pretty sure mine is more pressing.”

 

Jackson snorted his disbelief. “I fucking went down on McCall, Danny! What the hell could be more pressing than that?” The jock sucked in a rush of air. “Jesus, Danny, why didn’t you ever tell me I was gay?”

 

“You sucked one dick, Jacks, that hardly makes you queen of the blow job court.”

 

“Shut up. Aren’t you the one that’s always complaining about labels? So don’t go trying to tell me what I am or am not.”

 

Danny arched in eyebrow. “So you’re going to dump Lydia and steal McCall from Allison now?”

 

Stiles did a full body jerk in the tub.

 

“He’s going to do _what?_ ” Stiles hissed. Danny waved him off.

 

“Of course not,” Jackson answered with a weary groan. “I just… Derek said an Incubus couldn’t make me do anything like that unless… unless I secretly wanted to.”

 

“We’re teenagers, Jacks,” Danny replied. “That means we’re just bags of hormones walking around with nothing better to do than fantasize and get worked up over anyone that crosses our paths. It’d be weird if you _hadn’t_ ever thought about another guy that way.”

 

“A guy, sure, but McCall?” Jackson whined.

 

Danny chuckled. “You are such a baby.”

 

Jackson let out an indignant huff of air. “You’re just jealous I didn’t climb over the tables and rock your world instead.”

 

“I’m pretty happy with my guy,” Danny replied. He made sure to catch Stiles’ eyes so that the Succubus knew he wasn’t lying. He wanted Stiles to know that despite what had gone down earlier between them that Danny was still on his side. “Speaking of which…”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Jackson sighed in defeat. “You talked me through the gay crisis so I guess it’s only fair we talk through your relationship bullshit.” He snorted into the phone. “So what’s wrong? He wants to top or something?”

 

Danny made a note to have another talk with his friend about applying heteronormative roles to other people’s relationships.

 

“Actually it’s about – ” _the Succubus_ , Danny tried to say. His lips formed the words but no words actually passed through them. The hacker cleared his throat and tried again only to find that this time his mouth didn’t even open. His eyes flicked over to the bathtub.

 

Stiles gazed back at him with a mournful expression. “I tried to tell you.”

 

It felt strange to Danny that for all he’d experienced in the previous hours that he hadn’t really faced the downside to being a Succubus’ plaything. That through all the oddness of their bond and playing the sexual prey that he hadn’t ever felt like a slave. But in that moment he understood what it was to belong to someone else. To be theirs in a way that made it impossible to be an individual. His free will was one thing. He still wanted to tell Jackson the truth.

 

But his body wouldn’t let him.

 

Because Danny’s body didn’t belong to him anymore.

 

And it might never again.

 

“Danny?” Jackson yelled through the phone. From the frantic quality of his tone Danny doubed it was the first time he’d tried to get back Danny’s attention. “Are you alright? What’s going on?”

 

“I’m fine, Jacks,” Danny lied. His voice sounded hollow and strained even to his own ears.

 

He could hear the hesitation over the phone. “Are you sure you don’t want Scott and I to come over?”

 

“No.” Danny slumped further against the toilet tank. “Stiles and I can work it out ourselves. I shouldn’t have tried to drag you into it.”

 

“We’re friends,” Jackson replied irritably. “Best friends. You don’t think lover boy is going to go crying to McCall about whatever the fuck is wrong with you two?”

 

Danny shook his head even though Jackson couldn’t see it over the phone. “I’ll call you later,” was all he managed to get out before hanging up on him.

 

The worse part was that Danny knew what Stiles was going to say even before he broke the heavy silence that had settled over them once more. He could feel the desperation humming under his skin as if it were his own. Danny’s hair stood on edge as he felt Stiles’ fear leak over their bond.

 

But the terror of what Stiles was going to ask him to do was all Danny’s. And somehow that made it all the more horrible.

 

“You have to help me, Danny,” Stiles pleaded. His voice shook with emotion but the dead calm in his eyes told Danny that he meant business.

 

Danny turned away as if it could shield him from Stiles’ words.

 

“You have to help me die before I hurt anyone else.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a celebratory gift in honor Lathea's graduation! Whoo! You go, girl :)
> 
> HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!


	7. Hunger Strike

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s angst and then there’s angst. And writing this chapter entirely from Stiles’ POV would have been a little too much of the latter for my tastes (no matter how enjoyable a good sick!fic can be). So we get to see some of the side effects of a starving Succubus from outside POVs. Happy-fun-sexy times will return with a bang (pun intended) next chapter.
> 
> There is a moment of QUESTIONABLE/NON-CON/RAPE-ESQUE situation involving Stiles and Lydia. I don’t think it’s too intense or anything. Mostly just her acknowledging how it makes her feel after a lifetime of being ogled by men who at any moment might try to jump her. Just thought I’d throw a warning after talking to one of my female friends about her experiences.
> 
> Also, CLIFFHANGER warning. Apologies for any resulting tension.

Danny’s had wet dreams about the locker room before. He has a lot of theories about why his mind drifts to that scenario every so often. The goalie doesn’t like admitting that he might actually have a thing for it. Mainly because it’s just so terribly cliché. And as the only truly “out” member of the lacrosse team he really tries to avoid those types of stereotypes. Someone has to set a good example after all.

 

Sometimes Danny thinks it’s his go to fantasy because the first gay porno he’d illegally downloaded was a gangbang in front of some non-descript lockers with mesh soccer shorts pooled around toned calves. Other times he thinks it’s because he spends so much time with his head down after practice. His teammates had always been so chill about changing in front of him that Danny felt it only right to keep his eyes to himself… beyond the stolen peeks to see how he sized up against his peers of course. Even the straight guys got to do that.

 

Understandably the combination of all that eye candy around him on a daily basis and the need to not take advantage was a recipe for sexual frustration. Thus the periodic sex dream where he’d fuck or get fucked up against his locker. Or in the showers. Or on Finstock’s desk. Or draped over a wooden bench while his teammates took turns filling his mouth and ass in celebration of their recent lacrosse triumph.

 

This one is different though.

 

Danny’s bare ass is perched on the team playbook and his legs are spread wide along edges of the coach’s desk. His uniform is in a heap on the swivel chair behind him. Finstock may be absent but the whole team is spread out in front of the desk as if they were going over strategy before a big game. The oversized white board has even been wheeled out behind the desk. Danny bares his throat at his audience to get a look at it. Danny sees that the usual diagram of the lacrosse field has been erased. All traces of the coach’s hastily scribbled X’s and O’s are gone too. Instead someone has written ‘SUCCUBUS FEEDING 101’ in large block letters.

 

He turns back around in time to catch Stiles roll a second chair over. Danny’s cock twitches in anticipation but his knees turn inward in a last effort to provide some modesty. Stiles runs an open palm along his thighs with the barest of pressure so that his long fingers tickle the skin there. Danny’s legs immediately relax at the reassurance that their Master wants them on display like this. Though it doesn’t stop Stiles from moving the chair between Danny and his classmates. The team lets out a disappointed grumble at having their view of Danny’s nude form interrupted.

 

Stiles turns back just enough to wink at him. “Told you they’d enjoy the show.”

 

Danny feels the heat of a blush spread across his upper chest and face. He nods his agreement anyway and takes in the appreciative glances of his teammates. Stiles turns back to address the group but keeps one hand on Danny’s thigh. The steady, reassuring strokes make Danny’s head spin with arousal. So much so that he misses a good chunk of Stiles’ opening remarks.

 

He only manages to refocus himself when the crowd moves closer. Not just a few steps either. No, the guys crowd around the desk until they’re almost touching him. Stiles must have prohibited touching in his talk because no one dares reach for him. Fingers clutch the edge of the desk just as often as tented shorts thrust along the table top. A few boys bump shoulders as they fight for better viewing spots but it looks to Danny as if they just really want an excuse to rub against one another. It’s a valid deduction judging by the number of athletic shorts and jock straps being stretched to their limit.

 

Stiles’ hand abandons Danny’s thigh in favor of the base of his shaft. “Focus, Danny.”

 

Danny’s head jerks back to face front. Supernaturally gold eyes meet his and the command is solidified. Danny presses teeth to lips. He waits until all of his attention is on Stiles – on his _Master_ – before nodding. Stiles smiles in appreciation and rewards him with a few strokes.

 

“So,” Stiles asks, turning to face the crowd with a snarky smile on his lips. “Who wants to watch Danny prove how much fun being food can be?”

 

A chorus of enthusiastic voices rings out but none louder than Danny’s own.

 

Stiles lowers his mouth in a theatrically slow pace. Danny can feel how much Stiles is enjoying the performance through their bond but that it’s more about the recruitment. It’s important that they build on the impatience in the crowd and the unchecked lust that had been running rampant through the school.

 

Everyone holds their breath as Stiles presses his lips to the tip of Danny’s cock. Danny knows what’s about to happen, what Stiles wants to show their awestruck crowd. His lips barely part before the supernatural suction yanks Danny’s dick inside. Danny moans at the feeling of being pulled half deep into Stiles’ welcoming warmth and the muscles at the back of his throat already going to work on the head of his cock.

 

“Jesus,” someone moans.

 

“Was that…?”

 

“Did he…?”

 

Danny winks at the nearest flabbergasted boy. “Succubus remember? You don’t fuck their mouth. They suck you dry.”

 

Stiles hums his approval and then it’s Danny that’s moaning. His master makes a show of how different his feeding is than whatever pathetic blowjobs the teenagers may have gotten from their significant others. He doesn’t bob his head. He doesn’t let Danny tug on his hair. He doesn’t need to stroke the few inches of shaft that won’t fit comfortably in his mouth.

 

No, Stiles lets the inhuman muscles that line his throat massage and gradually pull more of Danny inside. It’s _Stiles’_ fingers that press Danny’s hips down and hold him still because – despite their positions – it must be clear which of them is predator and which is prey. It’s Stiles that grins triumphantly around the base of Danny’s cock when he can finally hold the entire length inside. It’s Stiles that takes Danny’s hand and presses it against the side of his throat so that he can feel how deep he’s buried.

 

“Fuck me,” comes Greenberg’s hoarse whisper.

 

Stiles pulls off of Danny with a wet pop. “Maybe if you’re a really good boy.”

 

Danny wants to mock his master’s response – because _really?_ – but not if it jeopardizes the chances of his getting off anytime soon. Instead he lets out an impatient groan and cants his hips forward in an obvious reminder that there’s a meal going on.

 

“See how impatient he is for it?” Stiles asks the crowd before diving back into his meal. This time he doesn’t take his time showing off for the crowd. Stiles just sucks him all the way down in one fluid motion that has more than Danny grunting their appreciation. Stiles hums as the first dribble of pre-cum slides down his throat before flexing his throat muscles in quick swallow.

 

“Is that it?” one of the dark haired Defenders asks. The kid’s built well for a sophomore but his impatience is showing as one of the few with their hand already shoved down their shorts and jerking in time with Stiles’ throat clenches. “Is he feeding on you?”

 

“Not – just – yet,” Danny pants through the building tension.

 

A midfielder with chestnut curls barks out a laugh while running a hand down his bare torso. Danny thinks his name is Randy but that could be his mind going to all sorts of porn-tastic places. His fingers catch on a perky nipple and Danny enjoys how it makes his chest and stomach expand and contract at the sensation. “Not too long now, huh, Danny?”

 

Ryan, a benchwarmer like Stiles, gropes the front of his midfielder buddy until he’s got a fistful of cock covered in mesh shorts. “Like you’re not about to shoot a load, Andy.”

 

Andy (See? Danny totally knew it was something like Randy) leans into his friend’s shoulder. “I will if you keep going like that.”

 

Danny can see that everyone has lost some of their clothes at this point. The least desperate among them are rubbing against the table or the player next to them. The most desperate are just going to town with only a jock strap or shorts keeping them modest. A few close friends like Andy and Ryan are helping each other out. Danny meets Stiles’ eyes and knows that the others are ready to take this show to the next level.

 

Stiles pulls off to give Danny a chance to catch his breath. “There’s only one of me and I’ve got to pull a couple loads out of Danny still. So don’t hold off on enjoying yourselves if you don’t want to.”

 

“A _couple_ of loads?” asks the second string goalie.

 

Stiles grins winningly. “Don’t worry I’ll still have enough of an appetite to suck a few out of whichever one of you studs can get hard again quickest.”

 

The idea must appeal to the curious defender from before because a second later he gasps and a dark stain appears on the front of shorts. The guy nearest him wraps an arm around his waist to keep him standing. Another sophomore rubs a hand through the boys’ buzz cut. The sophomore leans into the touch and his hips jerk with the extra stimulation. By the time the boy can stand on his own there are trails of cum dripping down between his shorts and legs.

 

“I’ll get him cleaned up,” the guy still holding onto him says. He’s one of the hunkier seniors and Danny has seen that predatory gleam in his eyes before… it’s just not usually aimed at a member of the team. The fellow sophomore behind him volunteers with an eager grin and the three of them disappear into the showers for what Danny is sure to be a much messier experience than advertised.

 

The sight of three of their teammates stripping down and disappearing into the steamy showers signals an end to all pretense among the rest of the lacrosse players. Naked becomes the new norm as the players strip and gather in groups of two or three. Even with hands focused on other cocks, the team’s eyes stay locked on the succubus and his meal.

 

Stiles doesn’t make them wait. He’s only gone back down on Danny for a few moments before Danny is cumming down his throat. Stiles releases just enough suction to let a few white dribbles out of his mouth as proof to their spectators that Danny really had been allowed his own climax.

 

Stiles licks up the few renegade dribbles before going right back to work.

 

Danny has zero issues letting it be known just how much he’s enjoying being milked. Power bleeds through their bond as Stiles gets Danny’s body working towards his next orgasm. A pleasant burn starts in Danny’s muscles as bits of his energy are drained through his cock and into the hungry succubus. Sometime after his second orgasm, Danny lets himself drift into the fog of exhaustion. Someone asks him what it feels like and Danny realizes the closest he’s come to feeling like this at all is during a really good massage or that time Jackson and he tried weed.

 

In the end he tells them it’s like being baked at the same time as getting a really good rub down _and_ a happy ending. All at once.

 

He groans as Stiles finally releases him. Danny opens his eyes and looks around in confusion. Usually Stiles will take three of four drinks from him before pulling away. Stiles must notice his confusion because he nods his head to the left where Greenberg is waiting completely naked and hard.

 

Danny feels no jealousy as he scoots over enough to make room for the other boy. Greenberg hesitates a second before climbing onto the desk. Stiles swivels his chair between Greenberg’s legs and strokes him absently. It takes a moment before Danny realizes Stiles is waiting on him.

 

Greenberg tenses, nervous, when Danny first rubs a hand absently down his abs. He waits for Greenberg to relax into the touch before talking. He tells him how scared he was when Stiles first approached him. He details what he’d seen Stiles do to the patrons at the strip club. Then he tells Greenberg how good it felt to give in, to just take what bountiful pleasure Stiles could offer.

 

When he’s done he asks Greenberg if it was only fair that they give something back to Stiles in return for that pleasure. Danny’s even voice and firm fingers have worked him right up to the edge where the boy doesn’t hesitate before answering that _of course_ Stiles could take anything he wanted. It’s almost pleading before the end.

 

It’s with Danny’s hand around his balls and Stiles’ lips tight around his shaft that Greenberg gives the first of himself to the succubus.

 

The rest of the team lines up.

 

*

 

Danny wakes with a gasp.

 

He pulls back his sheets to see what he could already feel clinging to his crotch. Globs of semen have coated the inside of the boxer briefs and stuck them to his thighs. The vision reminds him a little too much of what dream-sophomore had looked like after cumming early. Danny’s skin erupts in goose pimples at the sudden assault of cool air from the A/C in his window.

 

He’s only stopped from stripping out of the messy underwear by the sound of his phone vibrating against the wooden dresser. Danny accepts the call only after seeing Stiles’ snarky smile grinning up at him from the Caller ID.

 

“Stiles?” he asks, still half panting. “What’s wrong?”

 

When Stiles eventually voices his concern the words come out timid and weak. “Did you just have a weird dream?”

 

Danny freezes. “Maybe. Did you?”

 

“Yeah. Three guesses as to what about.”

 

“Coaches’ desk?” Danny whispers as if there were anyone else awake enough to overhear their conversation or even know what they were talking about.

 

There’s a frustrated groan from Stiles’ end of the conversation. “This is getting ridiculous. Now we’re fucking _sharing_ dreams about eating our classmates.”

 

Danny flushes at the pleasure the idea brings him. “I think it’s our bond. Your succubus knows what you asked me to do. I think it wants me to stop you.” He swallows around the warm feeling echoing along the bond. As if he needed more confirmation that Stiles’ inner demon was a hungry bastard. “I think… I think it wants me to bring you food.”

 

Stiles hangs up on him.

 

*

 

Danny has similar dreams every night that week.

 

He stops wearing any kind of clothing to bed out of necessity.

 

*

 

The Sheriff works nights a lot. That’s just what happens when half your department gets dead. So it wasn’t a surprise that Stiles abuses that fact to stay up all night playing video games and making late night snacks without staying up long enough to wash the damn dishes he used. But Stiles had always been strangely responsible too so the Sheriff usually let him get away with it. So long as his Stiles’ grades remained high and the abuse of trust didn’t lead to Stiles throwing raging parties in his absence anyways.

 

But sometimes the Sheriff knew a bit of an intervention was needed.

 

Like on mornings such as this one where the Sheriff greeted his son and was met with grumpy silence. Mornings when Stiles couldn’t function enough to make his own damn coffee so he stole the warm mug that the Sheriff had made for himself and downed it in one go all consequences be damned. Mornings that made the Sheriff want to call Melissa McCall and ask her to give Stiles a check up because he looked more like a zombie than a teenager that had stayed up all night.

 

“Do you have a death wish or something?” he asked as soon as Stiles had stopped trying to drown himself in the man’s coffee. There was a flash of guilt before Stiles masked it with confusion. The Sheriff sighed and took the mug back with a pointed glare. “That was my coffee, thanks. You might have noticed since you didn’t make it. Nor did you pour into a mug. Also, it was in. My. Hand.”

 

Stiles looked sick at the thought. “Oh god. I drank coffee.”

 

“ _My_ coffee,” the Sheriff clarified. “I feel like you’re missing the point.”

 

“I drank coffee,” Stiles muttered. The color in his face drained away which the Sheriff didn’t even think was possible. His kid had stepped off the stairs that morning looking more zombie than a teenager that hadn’t slept all night in favor or playing video games. “Oh this is so not good.”

 

The Sheriff could feel a wave of unease roll through him. He was missing something about his son again and lately that had only led to bad things. Things like his son being kidnapped and beat up by rival lacrosse players. “Stiles? Son, are you okay?”

 

Stiles shook his head. “I’m gonna be sick.”

 

Before he could reply Stiles was pushing passed his father and throwing himself head first into the sink. The Sheriff stepped back as the stench of bile filled the room before steeling himself and moving closer. He rubbed at Stiles’ neck and shoulders to offer him what comfort he could while Stiles heaved and sobbed his way through the sickness. Stiles’ hand shook as it reached blindly for the nozzle to wash away the mess.

 

“Sorry, dad.” The words were spoken in such a hoarse, pitiful voice that had they not been said right in front of him the Sheriff would never have believed they’d come from Stiles.

 

“Are you hung over?” He tried not to sound accusatory. Really, he did.

 

Stiles shoulders slumped. “I… yeah. Sorry.”

 

The Sheriff frowned at the back of his son’s head. “I don’t smell any alcohol, Stiles. Trust me you’ll know the difference when you throw that up the first time.”

 

“It wasn’t that much I guess,” Stiles lied weakly. “Maybe I don’t have the stomach for it. Must not be hereditary.”

 

This time it was the Sheriff who flinched. He backed away from the sink, hands raised in subconscious surrender. Throwing himself into booze was the only thing he felt more ashamed about than throwing himself into work and leaving Stiles to raise himself.  Another time he’d give Stiles a lecture about using that to take cheap shots at him but in that moment all he felt was guilt and shame.

 

It showed, too, if the look Stiles gave him was any indication. At least he knew Stiles felt bad about saying it.

 

“You should get to school.”

 

Stiles nodded before gargling with some water and letting it drain into the sink. He couldn’t quite meet his eyes but Stiles still gave him a hug on his way to the door. The Sheriff couldn’t help but hold him a little tighter than usual. It was okay since Stiles held on longer too.

 

It wasn’t until after the Sheriff heard the jeep’s noisy engine drive out of earshot that he realized how thin Stiles had felt in his arms. He eyed the sink with dread as images of his wife fading away in a hospital bed played behind his eyes.

 

Maybe he’d make that appointment with Melissa anyway.

 

*

 

Erica might have felt more guilty about making all of the conversation at the pack table grind to a halt but she was too frustrated to care. Besides, how else was she supposed to get people to listen to her if not slam her tray down on the table and growl? It’s not like she’s Lydia who stops conversation by just opening her mouth or Stiles who simply talks over everyone else until they give up and wait for him to finish.

 

Okay. So not everything she says is pertinent. And _maybe_ she spends most of their lunch period instigating games of ‘Marry, Fuck, Kill’. Does that mean she never has anything to say of immediate importance? Of course not. Case in point, Erica is only interrupting right then because what she has to say is more important than anything else they could possibly be talking about.

 

To her anyway.

 

“The school nurse is out of condoms. _Again._ ”

 

Boyd plops into the seat next to her and tries not to look embarrassed. Too bad for him she and the other wolves can smell it on him. Erica’s not sure why Boyd thinks they wouldn’t have known what they were up to had she not insinuated. What else would two hotties like them with raging werewolf urges be doing that would make them miss the first half of lunch?

 

Scott frowns his disappointment at her. Erica thinks he must be picking up bad eyebrow habits from the Alpha. “I thought you had something important to tell us.”

 

“That is important,” Erica defends. “I’m going to straight up maul someone if I can’t get these urges down. Or do you not find a public mauling ‘important’ enough to discuss?”

 

Isaac rolls his eyes. “It’s called masturbation.”

 

“Which is a crime when you’re dating someone as well endowed as Boyd,” Erica dismisses easily. The scent of Boyd’s embarrassment deepens. “Don’t worry, Isaac, I’ll lend him to you if your hand gets tired.”

 

“Not without a condom you won’t,” Boyd adds smoothly, mastering his veiled humiliation masterfully. Erica kisses his cheek in appreciation. She knew she loved him for a reason. Isaac flicks them both off but there’s no mistaking the added heat to the table as more than just Isaac think about how hot it would look to watch Boyd take him apart one inch at a time.

 

“So,” Erica said getting back to business despite the groans around her. “Either we get a new nurse who actually values safe sex or we threaten the current one into giving us more condoms. You know she has to have some stashed away somewhere. We’ve gone through three full bowls and it’s only Wednesday.”

 

Allison may have shot her with arrows but Erica has to admire how sympathetic she sounds as she pops a grape in her mouth and adds, “Why do you think Scott and I bring an emergency supply to school?”

 

Danny chokes on his food.

 

Jackson is all smiles as he pounds Danny’s back and leers across the table at Stiles. “What’s a matter, Danny-boy, your boyfriend not putting out in the locker room?”

 

Stiles blinks awake at that. “What? I didn’t do _anything_ in the locker room!”

 

“Neither did I,” Danny adds a little too quickly.

 

Erica can feel the grin spread across her face. “I think some ladies are protesting too much. Did you two do the nasty in the boy’s locker room?”

 

The other guys on the lacrosse team do not look nearly as amused.

 

“That’s gross, dude,” Scott admonishes his best friend. “Do you _know_ what goes on in there?”

 

“Seeing as I have to shower next to you freaks, you mean?” Stiles replies. “Yeah, I really do. Which is why we didn’t do anything like that anywhere near there. Got it?”

 

Jackson narrows his eyes. “They’re not lying.”

 

“But they are hiding something,” Lydia adds from behind her phone. She continues tapping away at the screen as if she weren’t paying attention but clearly they know differently now.

 

“They’re probably antsy because they can’t do anything like that while Stiles is sick,” Allison says.

 

Erica can feel her suspicions rising as Stiles and Danny exchange startled glances. Again.

 

“I’m not sick,” Stiles replies.

 

“Really?” Allison hums doubtfully. “Because normally you’d have finished the food on your plate and tried to steal what’s left of Scott’s by now. And mine for that matter.”

 

Isaac looks down at his own plate and looks genuinely surprised to see curly fries still sitting there.

 

Erica takes a good look and realizes that not only has nothing been touched on Stiles’ plate but that his silverware isn’t even dirty.

 

Scott voices their shared concern in a worry-filled, “Dude.”

 

Stiles waves it off. “I’m fine.”

 

“Really?” Lydia asks, heavy with skepticism. She’s even put her phone down for the full effect. “Stiles are you having body image issues?”

 

“What? No!”

 

Lydia’s eyebrow arches threateningly. “Is there something to be ashamed about having body image issues?”

 

Stiles gulps. “Um. No.”

 

“So eat something.”

 

Just to be a dick about it Stiles grabs the peanut butter cookie off of Scott’s tray. He ignores Scott’s indignant cries and shoves the whole thing in his mouth. “See?” he asks around the food, crumbs erupting out of his mouth and falling down the plaid button down.

 

Lydia does not look suitably impressed. “And swallow.”

 

Jackson opens his mouth but Danny quickly shoves his own cookie into it.

 

“Don’t even, Jacks.”

 

Jackson’s sour look is quickly mollified by the sugary goodness of the cookie. He shrugs off the group’s laughter and steals a second cookie from Danny’s plate. Erica has a feeling there aren’t enough cookies in the world that will stop the obvious innuendo from leaving Jackson’s lips at some point today.

 

Danny does them all a favor and changes the subject to the succubus. Erica slides her ice tea to Stiles when he chokes at the new topic. “So have we found anything out yet?”

 

Everyone’s eyes turn to Allison. If any of their werewolf contacts or Peter (never to be confused as part of the same category) had informed them of anything than Danny would already know. The only outside info they don’t get first is from hunters which means it has to come from Allison.

 

Luckily the girl is used to the Packs’ less than subtle way of asking and only looks slightly flustered at the sudden attention. “Actually, yes, and, in a way, this is totally relevant to Erica’s condom problem.”

 

Erica preens at that. The others could eye roll until they were blind for all she cared. She knew that her problems and the problems of the world would somehow be linked.

 

“And how is that?” Isaac prompts.

 

“Dad thinks there’s a good chance the succubus is here at the school,” Allison announces, leaning into the table so that the other students won’t hear. “I know we thought it might just be drawn here but with the increase in hormones being this dramatic there’s no way we aren’t around it all the time.”

 

Everyone takes a minute to eye the students around them with thinly veiled paranoia.

 

Erica decides to lessen the tension. “So what you’re saying is that the sex demon owes me condoms?”

 

Even Boyd chuckles at that.

 

“I’m saying that the Succubus is hungry and needs to feed. So its body is trying to draw prey by putting out more pheromones,” Allison clarifies. “Which is why we’ve all been so eager to find a quiet place to relieve the tension.”

 

Isaac nods while taking a sip of his soda. “Makes sense. I got detention last week for hooking up with Mandy Botkin and then we just hooked up during detention when the teacher left early to get – and I quote – some ‘afternoon delight’ with her husband.”

 

“Poor teachers think their libido’s are back,” Jackson says. “Also… gross.”

 

Boyd snorts. “Hopefully they’ll think it’s just school wide midlife crisis time.”

 

Scott threads his fingers through Allison’s. “It also explains why I can’t stand other guys talking to Allison lately. Almost broke Greenberg’s face yesterday for lending her a pen.”

 

“Utensil sharing isn’t everyone’s version of courtship, buddy,” Stiles jokes.

 

Scott tosses him another cookie. “Shouldn’t you be eating something?”

 

Stiles grins as he displays his now empty tray. “All done. See? Stiles is just fine.”

 

Erica would buy it more if she could actually remember him eating any of it. Or if the teen didn’t look absolutely exhausted as he said it. The crease in Scott’s brow says he has similar doubts but Erica can’t be sure. She doesn’t speak eyebrow-ese like Stiles can.

 

“Anyways,” Danny cuts in again. “No one’s turned up drained or anything yet. So if the succubus is doing something to draw in prey than it’s clearly not working.”

 

Allison shrugs. “Dad thinks it might be defective somehow. Maybe even dying.”

 

“That’s good news, though, right?” Isaac asks. “Less to worry about.”

 

“Not according to my research,” Lydia answers instead. “Almost every recorded case of Succubi or Incubi starvation has ended in several human deaths.”

 

Danny finishes picking apart the label on his water bottle. “Maybe it’s not an evil one, though. Maybe this one’s trying _not_ to eat anyone.”

 

Stiles glares across the table at his boyfriend. “It’s still dangerous. It’s better to put it down and be done with it.”

 

“Death isn’t always the answer, Stiles.”

 

“In this town mercy will get you killed, Danny.”

 

“Maybe if our first reaction wasn’t to kill anything that _might_ be supernatural than they’d stop trying to kill us too.”

 

“Tell that to the police officers the kanima slashed up,” Stiles shoots back.

 

“How about I tell my friend, Jackson, who you _saved_ and didn’t end up killing,” Danny retorts.

 

Lydia throws a cookie at both of their heads. Hard. “How about the two of you shut the hell up?”

 

Both boys look from Lydia to Jackson with guilty expressions. Erica doesn’t feel bad for Jackson too often – he brings most of the shit that happens to him on himself – but the dents in the table from squeezing it too hard are hard to dismiss. Jackson doesn’t look anyone in the eye as he quietly packs his stuff up and lets Lydia lead him out of the cafeteria. Lydia’s final glare over her shoulder promises painful retribution for both boys and Erica is suddenly pleased to have her worst problem being a lack of condoms.

 

Speaking of which…

 

“So can I have a condom from your emergency stash?” Erica asks Allison over the awkward silence.

 

Boyd clears his throat. “Two, please.”

 

Erica fist pumps the air. “I knew having study hall together would come in handy.”

 

Scott doesn’t even wait for Allison’s permission before pulling a packet of condoms from his girlfriend’s purse and tearing two off. Erica catches them easily before dragging Boyd out of the cafeteria. She doesn’t much care about the fate of the succubus but she also doesn’t mind the added stamina that came from the pheromones. Not when she gets to catch up on all the sexy fun times she’d missed out on when the epilepsy had ruined her life.

 

Of course Boyd has to ruin her happy clarity as soon as they’ve secured the janitor’s closet behind them. “You know Stiles dumped his tray into his book bag right?”

 

Erica claws accidentally slice through the condom. She gives Boyd the stink eye and the second – now only – condom. “You know you could have waited until the post-coital bliss to tell me that right?”

 

Boyd makes it up to her until they’ve gone through lunch, study hall and the first fifteen minutes of European History. Thank God for that spare condom.

 

*

 

Isaac still isn’t clear why Derek made it his job to keep an eye out for Stiles.

 

Not that Isaac isn’t just as concerned as the rest of the Pack is about his sudden lack of appetite. Because he is. After the whole broship-triangle feud he and Stiles had had over Scott, the two of them had ended up making their own solid foundation of friendship. Besides which they were Pack and Pack always looked out for one another. Even if said pack member kept pinching Isaac’s cheeks and calling him a puppy whenever they got drunk… and sometimes when completely sober.

 

If Isaac secretly enjoyed being scratched behind the ears or having Stiles’ long fingers comb his curly hair in a way that made his skin break out in goose bumps than that was no one’s business.

 

Still, though, Isaac is clearly not the best person to be assigned to “Stiles Watch” as Erica had dubbed it. Lydia shares more classes with Stiles than Isaac does because Isaac spends his weekends getting pummeled during ‘werewolf training’ while the two brainy humans get to study and join AP classes. Nor does Isaac have McCall-Stilinski family dinners to attend because he is neither a McCall nor a Stilinski and the Sheriff is still painfully in the dark about the whole supernatural thing and therefore doesn’t think to invite Isaac anyway. Even Erica spends more time shopping with Stiles than Isaac spends having Halo tournaments with him. Danny and him are dating now which is _definitely_ more front row to the Stiles show than Isaac is ever going to get. So, really, how Derek thinks Isaac having lacrosse with Stiles makes him the most qualified to watch him 24/7 is just beyond him.

 

It was not as surprising that when Isaac made these perfectly valid and reasonable points to said Alpha that the only response he received was a flash of fang and, “Because I said so” in response.

 

Watching Stiles during lacrosse turned out to be much more difficult than advertised. Coach may not be in on the whole werewolf thing yet but even he recognizes that – for whatever reason – Scott, Jackson, Boyd and Isaac are virtually unbeatable on the field and likes them running on said field whenever possible. Even human Danny is still the best goalie Beacon Hills has had in years and kept appropriately busy during practice. Despite his singular stellar performance last season Stiles is still kept on the bench. The only task more difficult than keeping an eye on Stiles when the spastic teenager is on the bench is when he’s on the field. Isaac spends more time body checking players away from Stiles than he does the ball. Even then Stiles still manages to trip over his own feet and face plant in the mud at least twice a practice.

 

How Stiles manages to fall off the bleachers during Thursday’s practice is simultaneously impressive and annoying as hell. Isaac slows down a bit and lets his teammates continue their assigned maneuver so that he can watch Stiles get back up. Which Stiles seems to have some struggle doing all by himself. Isaac lets the play complete before he jogs off the field to the laughter of the other benched players and Coach’s irritated screaming.

 

“Stiles?” Isaac crouches down next to his fallen packmate and hears the off-tempo beating of his heart. His own heartbeat falters when he flips Stiles over and sees that his eyes aren’t focusing. “Stiles can you hear me?”

 

The laughter on the bleachers cuts off when one of the other wolves growls at them. It’s hard for Isaac to determine which since Jackson, Scott and Boyd have also abandoned the practice session to see what’s wrong with Stiles. He can feel their concern itching under his skin through the pack bond. It’s been there, subtly building ever since the secret Pack meeting they’d had behind Stiles’ back. Once Boyd and Erica had ratted Stiles out over his non-eating they’d all started voicing concerns about him. Lydia had mentioned how many answers Stiles was getting wrong in class. Scott admitted that Stiles had cancelled on all of their after school plans lately. Danny claimed to not have noticed anything out of the ordinary but his heartbeat said otherwise.

 

If nothing else _that_ had gotten the Pack worried because Danny refused to lie unless asked to and even then it had to be something worth covering up. Which meant whatever was wrong with Stiles was big.

 

Isaac gave Stiles a firm tap to the cheek. “Stiles, wake up. Focus on me.”

 

Stiles’ eyes rolled in his direction before finally focusing. “Puppy?”

 

If Stiles didn’t sound so frightened and weak Isaac may actually have smacked him. Instead, to the sound of Jackson snickering, he found himself smiling and nodding. “Yeah, it’s me. Did you hit your head on the way down?”

 

“Nah, I’m fine, puppy,” Stiles slurred. He burrowed his head against Isaac’s chest in an attempt to block out the sunlight. “Five more minutes, okay, Dad? Then school. Promise.”

 

Jackson stopped snickering. “Idiot’s probably got a concussion.”

 

Danny stops hovering near the edges and squats down next to them. His fingers card through the mop of hair Stiles let it grow into over the summer. “We should get him to a hospital.”

 

“School pays for a nurse for a reason, Mahealani,” Coach snaps. Apparently having all of his best players off the field has realigned his priorities. “It’s probably just the sun.” He waves a hand at the ground where Stiles is still being cradled between Isaac and Danny. “This is what happens when you don’t drink your Gatorade. How many times do I have to tell you boys to hydrate properly?”

 

“That would be the first time ever, Coach,” Scott replies. Even Isaac can’t tell if he’s being a smart ass or completely genuine. Coach doesn’t know either and not even Scott’s epic puppy eyes can save him.

 

“Suicides, McCall!” Coach shouts.

 

Scott’s pouting has turned into the rebellious lip-jut. “What about Stiles? Someone’s got to take him to the nurse.”

 

“We’ve got it,” Isaac volunteers himself and Danny immediately. He’s already got an armful of the boy anyway. Plus Coach looks ready to give them all suicide drills if Scott doesn’t stop pushing him. He doesn’t wait for an answer before standing up and dragging Stiles’ body along with him. “The team needs its Co-Captains anyway.”

 

“Damn straight,” Coach praises. “You could learn a thing or two about team pride from Laney, McCall.”

 

Scott opens his mouth but Isaac never learns whether it was to correct Coach about his last name or to spout some sappy crap about Stiles and him being on a team for life. Blessedly, Boyd and Jackson drag him away before Scott can get them all into trouble. Isaac barely remembers to let Danny “help” him carry Stiles away from Coach’s manic ramblings so that he doesn’t look like a blonde Superman.

 

Stiles wakes again when Danny starts actually helping to carry him. His head immediately rolls away from Isaac and onto Danny’s shoulder. Danny struggles under the weight of Stiles trying to cling entirely to him. Isaac wraps an arm around Stiles’ waist to help even out the load and only after Danny talks him down does Stiles ease into the embrace. Isaac can’t help but keep one eye on the couple as they bring Stiles into the school. There’s a sense of complete coziness between them reminiscent of Scott and Allison at their most lovey dovey… and yet there’s a tension coming from Danny that has nothing to do with carrying Stiles or the gawking students.

 

“You know you can’t keep his secret forever, right?” Isaac informs him once he’s sure Stiles had slipped back into unconsciousness.

 

Danny jerks so hard that Isaac loses his grip on Stiles completely. Unbalanced, Danny nearly crashes into the nearest set of lockers. Isaac manages to grab an ankle and pull them both back before it’s too late. There’s the artificial sound of clicking as cell phones are pulled out to photograph the near disaster.

 

A little too late Danny replies, “Whose secret?”

 

Isaac has been watching Derek pretty closely these last few months so he’s learned how to give someone some epic bitch face. “Don’t even try that. Not with me.”

 

“It’s no big deal,” Danny lies with that charming smile of his that – if not for Isaac’s ability to hear his traitor heart pounding away – might actually have been convincing. “Not really anyway. It’ll be fine. I’ll make sure.”

 

“You don’t sound sure,” Isaac presses. “Maybe you should talk to someone else about it? Second opinion and all that.”

 

Danny’s eyes stray to Stiles’ face. Isaac has to turn his nose away from the strength of bitterness filling the air. “Believe me when I say that it’s not my choice.”

 

“If Stiles really cares about you he won’t break up with you just because you ratted on him… not if it keeps stuff like this from happening.” Isaac tries his hand at puppy eyes. “If keeping his secret his hurting him than you definitely don’t have to do what he says.”

 

The strength of Danny’s answering laugh startles Stiles awake again.

 

“What’s going on?” Stiles mumbles.

 

Isaac sighs, knowing his shot at breaking Danny is over. “You fell during practice. Nurse’s Station is just up ahead.”

 

“Nurse?” Stiles asks as if he’s never heard the word before. His brows furrow before his eyes widen and suddenly the boy is thrashing as if Isaac and Danny were taking him to be executed instead of medical assistance. “I don’t need the nurse!”

 

Danny actually manages to hold on to the squirming teen even when Isaac is forced away by a solid elbow to the face. Isaac growls and checks to see if his nose is bleeding while Danny continues to struggle. When he pulls his hand away it’s luckily clean of blood. Lucky because he totally would have made Stiles bleed for doing that no matter his role of Stiles’ protector.

 

“Let. Me. Go.”

 

Isaac was caught off guard by the power in Stiles’ voice. He knew that Stiles could be bossy and demanding but Isaac had never heard the boy sound so… Isaac couldn’t think of a word to properly describe it. All he knew was that it made him want to run away and lay down and submit all at the same time. Danny must have felt the same way because his hands dropped to his sides in an instant and his eyes to the floor.

 

Stiles sucked in a ragged breath before marching in the opposite direction.

 

“Should we go after him?” Isaac asked against every instinct his inner wolf had.

 

“Don’t,” Danny warned. “Just… don’t.”

 

Isaac took the out and jogged back to lacrosse practice. Neither Danny nor Stiles showed up again the rest of the afternoon.

 

*

 

Lydia tries not to let her anger show when the Sheriff opens the door. Parents tend not to let people enter their homes who look like they want to murder their offspring. Even if said offspring totally deserve it for standing up their friends. Again.

 

And let it be known that Lydia Martin does _not_ get ditched. If anything, she does the ditching.

 

“Good morning, Sheriff,” she chirps and decides to forgo any acting in favor of simply pushing her way across the threshold.

 

“Miss Martin,” the Sheriff greets with a weary sigh. “I thought Stiles said you two were meeting at the library today.”

 

“That was the plan.” So much for not sounding pissed off.

 

The man’s eyes swivel to the staircase and back. “He cancel on you again?”

 

Lydia twirls a curl of hair around her fingers. She focuses on threading the silky strands as a last ditch effort to keep her hurt and anger from showing. She’s pleased with the results when she manages to not sound any worse than inconvenienced. “Cancelling would imply that he notified me he wouldn’t be coming.”

 

“Ah,” the Sheriff says with a sage nod. “Well don’t be too hard on him. He hasn’t been feeling well lately.” He must catch her less than mollified expression since he hastily tacks on, “not that that’s any excuse for being rude to a friend.”

 

“Especially when said friend is only trying to get him an acceptable score on his SATs,” Lydia agrees. “They’re only a few weeks away, you know.”

 

Apparently the Sheriff was not aware judging by the guilty expression. “He’s lucky to have someone looking out for his education.”

 

Lydia smiles genuinely for the first time since knocking on the Stilinski’s front door. “Well how else will I get him into Stanford with me unless he matches my 2400 score?”

 

The Sheriff frowned. “I thought 2400 was the highest score you could get?”

 

“So?” Ignoring the startled expression on the elder Stilinski’s face, Lydia moved to the stairs. Better to get ahead of him before he got his bearings back. Especially if her need for vengeance was going to be quenched without parental interference. “See you later, Sheriff!”

 

There was a mumbled response from below but Lydia was already making her way down the familiar hallway to Stiles’ room. If Lydia took her time taking in the sights than that was her little secret. For all the pain and dysfunction in the Stilinski home it still held an innate sense of warmth that had always been lacking in any of the Martin’s five houses. Seven if you include the seasonal properties.

 

Lacrosse gear cluttered one side of the upstairs hallway. The Sheriff’s muddy work boots sat next to the bathroom door with a beach towel hastily shoved underneath. A thin line of dust had built up in the ceiling corners. It was the general disarray that came from only having two males living under one roof and neither with enough free time to properly clean. Just decent enough to not be embarrassing when unexpected company dropped in.

 

And yet there were clearly touches left over from when Stiles’ mother ran the place. From the pieces Lydia had put together from eavesdropping on Scott and Stiles over the years, she knew that Stiles’ mother had been an art teacher. Seeing as the paintings that adorned the walls of the home were dusted more often than the floors, it made sense to Lydia that they must have been done by Stiles’ mother. Lydia preferred her art to be the modern style of sharp lines and geometric shapes but she could see the appeal in the Stilinski woman’s landscapes. There was something to the bright colors that warmed the pale walls holding the painting up and, in turn, Lydia as she took in the details.

 

She wondered if Stiles had yet realized that the painting hanging across from his bedroom door was of the creek behind the Hale House.

 

Lydia swept the vase of flowers under the painting into her arms and replaced it with her purse. She toed off her heels before nudging them neatly under the side table and out of the way. If only she could guarantee no harm would come to her top and skirt.

 

There was no need for knocking since it only added to Lydia’s retribution if she caught Stiles doing something embarrassing. For someone with so little shame Stiles did blush rather prettily when put on the spot. The door was blessedly creak-free which allowed Lydia to slip in undetected and take in Stiles in all of his glory. Said glory being a pair of truly atrocious _Superfriends_ boxers atop a rumpled bed and all four limbs strangling a pillow.

 

Deciding against actually sitting on the bed, Lydia rolled the desk chair over instead. It was strange seeing Stiles so still. Lydia had shared puppy piles with Stiles before. She’d felt his feet twitching against her shins as he dreamed away. More than once Jackson had swapped places with her so that he wouldn’t be kept up by the near constant mutterings that Stiles breathed against the neck of whoever was closest.

 

It was almost a shame to ruin such a deep slumber. Unfortunately for Stiles, it was not enough of a shame to stop her from dumping the vase of flowers – stale water included – on top of his head.

 

Lydia rolled the chair back a few feet from the bed to watch the show. She’d expected cursing and spluttering. She’d anticipated the teenager shaking his body like a wet dog. She was even prepared to dodge a few flailing limbs. Impressively Stiles performed all three predicted reactions simultaneously.

 

What she was not prepared for were the gold eyes flashing at her.

 

Lydia Martin did not feel stupid very often but in that moment she felt like an idiot. Greenberg levels of stupidity even.

 

“You’re the Succubus.”

 

The golden glow intensified until it seemed as if the whole room was burning with it. Stiles pulsed off the bed with the fluid motions of a trained predator more likely seen in jungles than Beacon Hills. Lydia barely had enough time to raise her arms in front of her before Stiles was plucking her out of the chair and carrying her to the bedroom wall. Lydia let out a stunned gasp as her back connected with it.

 

The whole Pack should have seen it coming but most of all Lydia. All of the evidence was right in front of them. The way Stiles’ smell had evolved into a scent more enticing than any bottle of perfume or cologne ever bottled. How the arrival of the sex demon coincided so accurately with Stiles’ return from visiting colleges. His and Danny’s relationship starting out of nowhere and evolving into something so intimate that…

 

All at once her sense of idiocy vanished in a harsh wave of anger. “You _enslaved_ Danny?!”

 

For the first time since ambushing him, Stiles actually reacted like human-Stiles would have. He ducked his head against his shoulder and refused to meet her eyes out of shame. Without the power of his eyes stunning her, Lydia could feel her full faculties slam back into place. She wasted no time in using her raised hands to shove Stiles as hard as she could. Stiles held onto her though and they both went stumbling away from the wall.

 

At the last second before they went sideways, Stiles swung them both so that he took the brunt of the fall. Lydia felt herself relax at the reminder that maybe Stiles was more in control of his new urges than she’d feared. All of her research so far had indicated that a starving Succubus was nothing more than a super-charged rapist just lying in wait for an easy meal. A second later that notion was put into question as Stiles flipped them once more so that Lydia was on the throw rug next to the bed and Stiles was pinning her down.

 

All at once Lydia was aware of just how suggestive their positioning was. Stiles was still naked except for a pair of well-worn boxers. The water Lydia had doused him with had wet his slightly shaggy hair. Dribblets ran from his head down his shoulders. The few rivulets that made it further than his firm chest continued their way down his toned-chest and abs until disappearing into his treasure trail.

 

Lydia forced her gaze away from tracking the water any further. Her chest was rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath. Whether the tumble was to blame or her sudden appreciation of Stiles’ improved form was to blame was a question Lydia didn’t particularly feel like exploring at the moment. Lydia’s brilliant mind and unquestionable logic had saved her before and now more than ever did she believe it would be the key to getting out of this particularly bad spot.

 

“Stiles,” Lydia said. She tried to keep her voice steady and unthreatening. She was hoping that the only reason Stiles had pounced on her was because she’d caught him while he was asleep and therefore not fully in control. Now that he was awake Lydia had to hope that he was at least partially back in command of himself. “It’s Lydia.”

 

“I know.”

 

Stiles’ expression didn’t change but his hands loosened their hold on her wrists slightly. As he spoke, his voice sounded deep enough to send little tremors of pleasure down her spine. It was the tone of voice that Jackson usually used when narrating his dirty thoughts to her as they made love. She pushed away the comparison, knowing that it was probably just a subconscious ploy the Succubus was attempting to manipulate her with.

 

“If you know it’s me – that it’s your friend Lydia – than why are you holding me like this?” The gold faded to amber so Lydia decided to try again. “I thought you’d be the one to never hurt me.”

 

Finally Stiles’ expression cracked. The thought of hurting her – of treating her as poorly as Jackson had once upon a time – was foreign enough to confuse him. “We… I wouldn’t. I would never hurt you.”

 

Lydia dug deep and let her fear bleed through. “So why are you still on top of me?”

 

“You’ll tell,” Stiles answered, his grip tightening minutely. “You saw. You know now.” His head rocked back and forth violently enough to make Lydia concerned that he might hurt himself. “You’ll try and stop me.”

 

“I’m your friend,” Lydia denied. “I only want to help.”

 

“You could help.” The suggestive edge to Stiles’ reply made Lydia shiver and not pleasurably. Stiles’ left hand relaxed enough to let him rub gentle circles over Lydia’s wrist. Lydia heard a whimper of fear leave her lips. It wasn’t conscious and certainly not the vulnerability she wanted to show.

 

But it was enough. Stiles stopped trying to seduce her. With supernatural speed he was leaping off of her and cowering against the side of the desk furthest from her. Stiles pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.

 

Lydia took a deep relief-filled breath. The idea of being harmed by men was not new to her. She’d been an attractive woman long enough to see the way some men looked at her, at all women, and felt that instinctive fear. But the idea of Stiles being one of those men after how close they’d become had left her more rattled than she’d ever felt before. Stiles had become a safe place for her – especially during the bad times with Jackson – that for him to be anything else might have ruined her.

 

“You should go.”

 

It hurt Lydia to hear him sound so broken. She’d seen him scared plenty of times before. They’d been scared _together_ plenty of times before. But she’d never heard him be so fearful of himself. And if there was one thing Lydia could commiserate with it was being so out of control of your own body that you’re afraid of yourself. Those months with Peter in her head had left her trembling with self-doubt and terrified of where she might wake up next.

 

Lydia realized then that being fed on against her will by Stiles wouldn’t have just destroyed her. It would have absolutely decimated Stiles too.

 

She took her time sitting up so as to keep a good eye on Stiles. Lydia used the bed to straighten into a standing position. She dusted herself off and straightened her clothes before walking to the door. There were tears gathering in Stiles’ eyes as she walked out the door as he clearly thought she was fleeing.

 

Stiles should have known her better than that.

 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Lydia said as she reentered the room with her purse in hand. After all the seriousness of the past few minutes she got a little extra entertainment out of the surprised look on his face. “Unless you tackle me again. Then I’m going full on she-wolf on your ass.”

 

“I might,” Stiles warned through bleary eyes that were thankfully still his regular whiskey color. “You don’t know how bad its been.”

 

Lydia tried to pat his leg but Stiles quickly pulled it out of range. “I know you haven’t killed anyone.”

 

Stiles scoffed. “There are a lot worse things I can do. Just ask Danny.”

 

“Oh believe me I will,” Lydia promised. She was going to kick her hacker friend’s ass for not warning anyone as soon as she found a way to break the master-slave bond between them. “Though if it makes you feel any better I’ve got my stun gun in my purse and I’m not afraid to use it first.”

 

Stiles managed a halfway decent smile. “I remember the day Allison gave that to you.”

 

Lydia smirked. “Then you also remember what a bad ass I am with it.”

 

“You were a bad ass before you had it, too.”

 

“Damn straight.”

 

They stayed like that long enough for the sunlight streaming through the bedroom window to dim into an afternoon gloom. By the time the Sheriff yelled up the stairs as he left for his shift they had drifted close enough to be leaning against the same corner of the desk. They kept their companionable silence long after the rough rumble of the Sheriff’s cruiser had gone beyond their range of hearing.

 

Lydia waited long enough for Stiles to relax his guard before dropping her hand onto Stiles’ foot. She gave it a gentle squeeze before pulling back. “We’ll figure this out. I promise.”

 

“I already have it figured out.”

 

“Killing yourself is a terrible solution,” Lydia warned him. “I expect better of you.”

 

Stiles tensed. “It’s my choice.”

 

Lydia debated using the stun gun on him. “Look when you’re old and senile or a Peter-Hale-style-vegetable I will listen to Scott cry over your body and put an air bubble in your vein myself, okay? But we’re not there yet.”

 

“That’s almost… sweet. I think.”

 

It wasn’t agreement but at least Stiles was no longer spewing blasphemy by suggesting that she was in any way less than capable of solving his problem. That was fine. It bought her time to actually save him. Until then she had bigger fish to fry. Like figuring out how to get Stiles to calm down and eat something before he wasted away. Looking at how frail her friend had become Lydia knew that she didn’t have much time to convince him.

 

Lydia decided to give him until the regular Friday night pack meeting to come clean to the others before doing the deed herself.

 

*

 

It had been a long time since Scott felt like he was failing at being the best version of himself. He’d kept his grades up where they were before Peter had bitten him. His mom had a regular lunch delivery curtsey of a dutiful son no matter which shift she worked. Scott had even gotten them into a parent-child cooking class for her birthday so as to cut down on the take out. He and Allison had gone more than a year straight without any relationship-critical fights. Surprisingly what had taken the most effort getting right was being a best friend to more than one person.

 

For so much of his life Scott had only had Stiles. They’d known they’re parents had been worried about when they were younger. With good reason seeing as Stiles and him had gotten pretty co-dependent by the time they hit high school. So when Scott suddenly had Allison and Isaac and Derek (sort of) he’d let if fall apart. Stiles being the king of avoiding problems until they blew up in his face hadn’t brought it up until everything had already gone to hell and Scott hadn’t even noticed.

 

So Scott was that much more disheartened to realize that he’d let Stiles slip something by him again. If there was one bad habit Scott hated repeating more than being ignorant it was letting Stiles down. Again.

 

Which is why when Stiles starts making excuses about his third nosebleed during lunch on Friday Scott doesn’t let him get away with it. Not when Danny kept smelling guilty and lying for him. And certainly not when Lydia kept giving Stiles pointed looks and digging her nails into his arm hard enough to do damage.

 

Though it was really the way the napkins Stiles used to clean up the lunch table reeked that really got Scott chasing after him. It smelled like rot and death.

 

Scott followed Stiles’ scent to the men’s bathroom. Seth from the tennis team was totally doing the Gotta-Pee-Dance when Scott rushed to beat him inside. He gave the guy his best puppy eyed expression before closing the door in his face.

 

“Out of order, dude!” Scott shouted through the door before using his werewolf strength to force the lock closed.

 

It sounded like Seth kicked the door hard enough to dent it but Scott could care less. The smell of rot had filled the room and he could see Stiles was bent over the toilet under one of the stall doors. Scott paced in front of the stall as he tried to listen to what sounded terrifyingly like Stiles heaving up everything he’d ever eaten.

 

“Scotty,” Stiles grunted between heaves. “Could you stop pacing, buddy? It’s making me kind of dizzy and that’s really not helping right now.”

 

“Right. Sure. Of course.” Scott nodded his agreement until he realized that Stiles couldn’t actually see him through the stall door. So he sat next to the opening instead. “You want me to get you something? Water? Paper towels? Breath mint?”

 

Stiles chuckled until it shook his stomach enough to start puking again. When he finally stopped again he managed to say, “Are you moonlighting as a bathroom attendant or something? I’m not tipping you.”

 

Scott rolled his eyes at the ridiculousness that was his best friend. “No, obviously not.”

 

“Any chance we can just pretend this is a bad hangover?” Stiles asked with hopeful tint to his voice as he finally stepped out of the cramped stall. He leaned heavily against the door but tried to make it look smooth by half-swinging out of the way. Of course it only made him trip and stumble into the row of sinks. “I’ve already hit my heart-to-heart quota for at least a week thanks to Lydia.”

 

Scott could see himself pouting in the bathroom mirror. “So you trusted Lydia and not me with whatever is going on with you?”

 

Stiles frowned down at the sink. “Of course not. I love Lydia but you know you’re my one and only bestie.”

 

“Are you sick?” Scott asked tentatively. “Is it like with your mom?”

 

“No, nothing like that,” Stiles rushed to assure him. “It’s just not… it’s complicated, okay? I just need you to trust me.”

 

Scott bit at his lip. “I do, man, but I don’t want this to be like sophomore year. We made a pact remember? No more secrets from each other.”

 

“I’m not planning on slipping any old guys some poison if that’s what you’re asking.”

 

“Stiles,” Scott warned through his frustration. “I’m serious. Tell me what’s wrong or I’m taking you to see my mom at the hospital.”

 

Stiles slumped his weight across the sink in defeat. “Too late. Dad already made me see her.”

 

Scott moved forward slowly so as to not startle his friend. Stiles leaned ever so slightly into the hand that Scott placed on his shoulder. It’s instinct more than anything else that had Scott squeezing gently. They’ve shared these moments with each other more times than they can count. It would be wrong not to touch.

 

“I thought you said you weren’t sick?” Scott asks in a hushed voice. What else could it have been if the Sheriff had called his mother?

 

A head shake is all he gets in response.

 

“I told you about the whole werewolf thing.”

 

Stiles offered up a glare in the mirror’s reflection. “I told _you_ about _your_ werewolf thing.”

 

Scott smiled sheepishly. “Well you’re the first person I told about my crush on Allison.”

 

“The whole world saw that you were head over paws for her the minute you handed her that damned pen,” Stiles dismissed.

 

“Well what about lacrosse? You were the only one I asked to try out for the team with me.”

 

“I was the only friend you had, you loser.”

 

“Nice of you to remember.”

 

Stiles rolled his eyes before leaning his head back down against the cold sink. His fingers twirled around the handle and then he was leaning into the stream of water. There was a curve to his lips though and that’s what made it all worth it to Scott.

 

It wasn’t about being a werewolf or Allison or lacrosse tryouts. It was all of the times that Scott didn’t bring up and Stiles knew it. It was about the night Scott slept over at Stiles’ house and confessed that his dad was hurting his mom. It was the night Stiles was first told about his mom’s cancer and he spent it crying over the phone to Scott. It was the day Scott’s father left. The day the Sheriff started drinking. The drunken night when Stiles first confessed that he found guys just as attractive as girls. The weeks Scott spent thinking that Melissa hated him after finding out he was a werewolf. The night Stiles accepted that Lydia was never going to love anyone but Jackson. The morning after when Scott admitted that Allison might never take him back.

 

It was every moment building up to this one that made Scott confident he was going to get the truth from Stiles. They were in cahoots for life. Whatever the adventure or danger they would face it together.

 

“Hey, Stiles, remember when we were eight and tried to camp out in your Dad’s cruiser but we forgot the doors lock from the outside?” Scott asked with another quick squeeze to Stiles’ shoulder. Only it was with enough force to dislodge Stiles’ balance on the sink. Stiles head slipped further into the sink and directly into the water, which should have been jarring enough to wake him up. It should have sent him spluttering and gesticulating angrily all over the bathroom.

 

Only Stiles didn’t wake up. His body fell limp instead.

 

“Stiles!”

 

Scott quickly pulled Stiles free of the sink and laid him out on the tiled floor. There was blood running from his mouth, his nose, his ears. Scott could swear his heart stopped nearly as much as the sound of Stiles’ had. The smell of rot returned as the red in the streams of blood turned to black goo. Scott was already dialing 911 before he remembered hearing Jackson talk about his transformation into the Kanima; how Derek had thought the Bite wouldn’t take because of the black mess that was leaking from Jackson’s body.

 

Scott tried not to panic as he cut the call to 911 and scrolled down his contact list instead. There was something wrong with Stiles that a hospital couldn’t help him with. The tar spewing from his body meant it was something supernatural and Scott only knew of a few ways to combat something like that. In his defense he was desperate and thinking about Jackson’s bite gave him the only solution he could of that might save his friend from _whatever_ it was that was killing his best friend; his brother.

 

He needed Derek to give Stiles the bite.

 

*

 

If only Scott had known just how terrible an idea it would turn out to be.

 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry. There will be no super powered Succubus!Werewolf!Stiles happening in this fic, okay? I'm merely foreshadowing that maybe an Alpha biting a Succubus is going to have some very-bad-no-good-run-for-the-hills type of outcome.
> 
> Apologies for the delays in posting on all my stories. I know it was a long wait but it takes some serious time to write over 11,000 words, okay? Also I started a new job (yay steady income!) and I barely have any time to write at all so updates might take a bit.
> 
> You can always get previews of what's coming at my fanfic blog (moriartysminion.tumblr.com) though.


	8. Hungry Like The Wolf

Derek pulls the Camaro over as soon as he smells the Death on the wind. Wolves have many names for many things – and even more symbols – but there is none for the black tar that has haunted Derek’s life. He remembers asking his mother about the dark ooze that seeped out of Paige’s body. Talia had done her best to explain that Wolves only knew to describe the substance by the inevitable result: Death. It was taboo to mention it. The last time Derek had brought it up before the fire was when he caught Talia burning his clothes that Paige’s Death had seeped into.

 

Flashes of the other times said Death had marked Derek’s life flashed through his mind. The scent of the Death coupled with Peter’s burning flesh just before Derek cut through his throat. The trickle out of Jackson’s nose as he looked to Derek for guidance, begging to know what was wrong with him. Gerard choking down the goo as he shouted about Scott’s mountain ash trickery. Erica’s surprise seizures at the abandoned subway station. Cora lying sick in the hospital with the Death slowly massing beneath her wounds.

 

It took everything Derek had to turn the car back onto the road and keep driving to the school. Especially knowing that what awaited him was the next Death-related scene in the reel of nightmares that he would spend the rest of his life replaying in his mind. He only prayed that this was the rare exception when the Death didn’t win. The thought of witnessing Stiles – the frail human with more gumption than all of his wolves combined – threatened to break something equally fragile in Derek.

 

He doesn’t bother texting Scott back for further directions. The smell of the Death is so ingrained in his memory that he can follow the scent alone. Derek’s wolf practically cowers within him as he continues to pursue the vile smell to the parking lot closest to the preserve. He notes absently that Scott was smart to bring Stiles there. It’s isolated enough that most students and faculty won’t park there and there’s a line of hedges separating it from the tennis courts that will provide good cover.

 

Nothing quite prepares him for seeing Stiles cradled between Scott’s legs looking completely lifeless. Scott looks up at Derek with an expression so lost and broken that it reminds him of the first time Scott was ever desperate enough to seek Derek out for answers. Much like that first time Derek wishes he had more than bullshit and educated guesses to give the young wolf.

 

Derek crouches down next to them but stops himself from touching either teenager. The veins in Scott’s arm are ink black as he struggles to leech as much of the agony out of his friend as possible. There are tear tracks on his face and Derek’s isn’t sure how much of that is from the pain and how much is helpless grief.

 

“I had to get him out of the school,” Scott explains, his ramblings coming out in a hollow tone. “I was trying for the woods but he keeps whimpering when I try to move him and I’m afraid I’m making it worse…”

 

 “What happened, Scott?” Derek interrupted the numb rambling. Scott hadn’t been clear on the details. Only that Stiles was dying and needed the Bite. From what Derek could see it looked like someone had already tried. He might have suspected the desperate boy but, despite his potential for becoming a True Alpha, Scott still wasn’t able to actually turn anyone yet. “Why is he transitioning?”

 

Scott’s eyes finally focused at the term. “Transitioning? Like… turning into one of us?”

 

Derek let out a non-committal noise as he scanned for bite marks. “That’s the only time I’ve seen something like this in a human. Any other time has been a supernatural injured or dying.”

 

“He’s been keeping something from me,” Scott confessed quietly. His gaze had turned away from Derek to look at the boy clutched protectively against his chest with a probing eye. “Do you think he found an Alpha to bite him?”

 

A bitter, self-deprecating part of Derek thought that the scenario made the most sense. He and Stiles had come a long way in their friendship but there were times Derek doubted that Stiles really looked up to Derek as his Alpha. There’d been a nagging suspicion that Stiles was simply waiting for Scott’s True Alpha to emerge and simply take the Bite from him – _if_ he ever decided to turn.

 

But Derek also remembered Stiles’ impressive loyalty and knew that the teenager would never consciously do that to someone he considered a friend. “No, Scott. We know how Stiles feels about staying human.”

 

“Then there’s still time,” Scott pressed. “If he’s still human than you can Bite him.”

 

Derek leaned further back from the pair at the harsh determination in Scott’s voice. That glimmer of True Alpha breaking through and reminding him of the power that comes with having the ability emerge instead of inheriting or stealing it. But Derek was still the only real Alpha there and he wasn’t going to be bullied into making another messy mistake.

 

“And here I thought we just established how Stiles felt about being turned.”

 

Scott’s voice is deceptively quiet and collected when he responds but Derek can see the fangs tipping passed his lips. He can see the claws cutting into Stiles’ clothes as Scott grips the limp form of his best friend ever tighter. “I’d do it if I could, Derek, so just _for once_ be there for me. For us.”

 

Derek let his eyes turn red. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t. Just that you have to be sure, Scott. This is a choice you’re making for Stiles. It could go wrong and that’s not easy to live with… believe me on that.”

 

“This isn’t like Paige,” Scott snarled. “I won’t let him die.”

 

“Than where are the others?” Derek pointed out, gesturing at the empty lot around them. He could feel his Beta’s through the bond. He could sense their worry from inside the school. If they’d known how sick Stiles was or how desperate it was making Scott than they’d have been at their sides in a heartbeat. The only reason they weren’t was if Scott had kept that knowledge from them. And there was only one reason Scott would have done that. “You didn’t tell them because you know they’d try to stop you.”

 

There was a dull flash of Alpha red in Scott’s eyes when they finally met Derek’s gaze. “He’s _mine_ , Derek. Do you understand?” The red gave way to the honey amber that resembled Stiles’ natural eye color more than Scott’s usual yellow tint. “Before any of you came along it was just the two of us so if anyone’s getting a say in this it’s me!”

 

“And me,” Derek reminded him. “Unless your plan is to force me to Bite him like with Gerard?”

 

Scott’s shoulders sagged under the weight of the dig. “He forgave me for that. He’ll forgive me for this, too.”

 

“If he survives it.”

 

“ _When_ he survives it. And, yes, he will understand why I gave him away to save his life.”

 

Derek frowned. “Gave him away?”

 

“He won’t be mine anymore. Not anymore.” A trembling claw pulled up the edge of Stiles’ signature plaid button down along with the graphic tee underneath. The stench of Death increased as the pale fleshy side of Stiles’ stomach was revealed. “Tell me you don’t want him in your Pack, Derek. Tell me you don’t want to see how grateful he would be that you saved him.”

 

The truth was that it was tempting. Enough so that Derek could already imagine what biting down on the flesh would be like. How Stiles’ presence would strengthen the Pack Bond in more ways than one. There was so much benefit to any Pack with someone like Stiles as a full-fledged member.

 

“Manipulation is a terrible look on you,” Derek said instead of any of that.

 

Scott’s bitter laugh echoed across the lot. “What can I say? Stiles taught me everything I know.”

 

“He really won’t forgive us, you know,” Derek muttered into the growing silence.

 

“At least he’ll be alive to hate us,” Scott replied just as quietly.

 

Derek nodded just the once before letting the rest of his teeth elongate into fangs. While Scott’s clawed hands held the clothing tops up to the shoulders, Derek placed his own on Stiles’ hips to keep him from thrashing after the initial pain of the Bite inevitably registered. Scott’s breathing intensified the closer Derek got to Stiles’ exposed side while the boy in question maintained that deathly slow heartbeat and slack body.

 

In his limited experience only Erica hadn’t reacted to the pain. Ever the strong one she’d smiled down at him with something like triumph in her expression. Jackson had kept up a stoic silence but the scent of tears in the air had been telling. Boyd actually screamed but recovered the fastest. Isaac had clung so hard to Derek that the bruises had taken hours to heal. All of them had tensed as teeth met flesh.

 

This was the first time Derek met zero resistance. Stiles’ blood gushed into his mouth. Derek forced himself to hold the bite even as blood tainted with bitter Death flooded his mouth. There was something extra in the flavor that had his wolf howling in warning. The instinct to stop and flee was even stronger than it had been when just the scent of Death was in the air. His wolf was recognizing that there was something larger going on with the newly bitten boy that Derek hadn’t yet recognized.

 

A suspicion fully confirmed when Stiles’ eyes opened and were glowing an ethereal gold unlike any werewolf yellow Derek had ever seen. His eyes shut after that one hopeful moment before the thrashing began. Derek quickly unlatched his jaw so that he didn’t rip the chunk of flesh right out of Stiles’ side. The worst part wasn’t the black Death gushing from the Bite nor the full body seizures that took the combined strength of both werewolves to contain.

 

The worst part were the hoarse screams of Stiles’ pain bouncing off the school walls and the parking lot blacktop that were bitter reminders of the mistake he and Scott had clearly just made.

 

“Deaton’s!” Derek shouted over the sound of Stiles’ wailing.

 

Scott nodded once before hoisting Stiles up and dragging him into the backseat of the Camaro. Any concern that moving him might possibly be hurting Stiles had become secondary to the all too real possibility that they’d just killed their friend.

 

*

 

Thankfully it’s not the first time Derek’s made the mad drive to Deaton’s Vet Clinic at top speeds because his mind isn’t on it. Derek knows he should be fully focused on the cars he’s weaving between down side streets and not plowing down any pedestrians unfortunate enough to jaywalk during a pack emergency. Even focusing on Scott’s growing distress would be better. But Derek can’t stop thinking about the uneasy feeling in his gut that something even more bizarre is going on with Stiles.

 

There’s a space in Derek’s head, and in the Pack Bond, now that wasn’t there before. A Stiles-shaped hole carved out in his soul that should mean that the Bite took. But that should also mean that Stiles is healing and he’s clearly not. Even more unsettling was that Stiles’ spot in the Pack Bond felt larger than a new member’s should. Derek’s mother used to say that – to an Alpha – the Bond felt like one large house and that each family member had their own room in it. Until he’d fully bonded with them, all of Derek’s Betas had felt like their place in the bond took only the size of a closet in said house. It should have been the same with Stiles.

 

Instead Stiles already felt like he’d claimed a warehouse worth of space rather than a room or a closet. It also was nothing like Derek had imagined Stiles’ presence within the Pack Bond would be. The cavernous depths weren’t filled with uncontrollable energy or chaotic thoughts and emotions. Instead there was a thrum of power resonating somewhere within that simultaneously piqued Derek’s interest and warned him away.

 

Derek had a feeling that this time the mess Stiles had gotten himself into wasn’t one that the Pack would be able to save him from.

 

*

 

The clinic is clear of patrons when they come to a tire squealing halt in the veterinarian’s small parking lot. Derek’s mind was so preoccupied during the drive that he hadn’t noticed whether or not Scott had called ahead to warn his boss they were coming. Derek can still smell the lingering scents of patrons so he assumes Deaton cleared them out. Scott gives Derek a nervous look when they pull Stiles from the car and he doesn’t cry out in pain like he had when they put him in the Camaro. Derek tries not to think if that means Stiles has gotten better or worse.

 

“Oh,” Deaton breathes out as soon as they’ve entered the building, Stiles’ lithe and lifeless form spread out between them. “I didn’t realize…”

 

Derek frowns at the black ooze running out of Stiles’ every orifice before gathering at the congealed blood pool on Stiles’ lap. He’d never seen Deaton show much emotion before let alone the shocked expression on the older man’s face. The man was a veterinarian and surely must have been used to seeing blood before. If not professionally than Derek knew the witch was at least used to seeing gore as an Emissary for the former Hale Pack. Derek’s mother, Talia, had been a fearsome and well respected Alpha but that hadn’t stopped strays from trying to gain the same power by harming her.

 

“I’ll take him to the back,” Derek informed them before moving to walk behind the counter. Only instead of walking into the exam room like always, Derek was held back by an invisible barrier. “What the hell?”

 

Deaton cleared his throat and looked down at the sealed mountain ash counter pointedly. “Invitation only, Derek.”

 

“We don’t have time for this,” Derek all but growled in frustration. “Stiles could be dying.”

 

“It’s not Stiles I’m worried about dying today,” Deaton replied with his usual vagueness.

 

Derek flashed the man some fang. “You better mean you’re worried about yourself because if you don’t let us through this damn door right now I am going to rip your throat out with my teeth.”

 

Deaton raised an eyebrow completely unmoved by the threat.

 

“Please,” Scott begged, moving forward to stand shoulder and shoulder with Derek. “It’s Stiles, Deaton. _Stiles._ ”

 

The veterinarian looked between Scott’s pleading expression and Stiles’ gauntly features. After a moment of deliberation – interrupted only by Derek’s impatient growls – Deaton sighed his defeat and opened the counter partition to let them through. Derek used the bulk of Stiles’ legs hanging off his elbow to knock Deaton backwards a few feet on his way into the back room. Scott steadied the man and muttered a half-hearted apology on Derek’s behalf.

 

Stiles looked even worse beneath the bright artificial lighting hanging above the gunmetal grey examination table. His skin looked paler which made the black trails of Death stand out even more harshly. The only bits of color on Stiles’ body were the blush to his slightly parted lips and the hint of gold glowing beneath his eyelids.

 

“So what do we do?” Scott asked after bunching up a spare blanket and placing it under Stiles’ head like a pillow. “Ice bath? Some kind of ritual? If you want, I can get Lydia to start looking up what might have done this to Stiles in the Argent Bestiary?”

 

Deaton waved off his suggestions. “There’s no question of what happened to Stiles, Scott.” He turned his gaze to Derek. “Haven’t you learned that you just can’t go around biting people without there being consequences?”

 

To Derek’s surprise Scott jumped to his defense. “It wasn’t Derek, Doc. He only bit Stiles because I asked him to. It was the only way to save his life… or at least I thought it was.”

 

“What could be a worse consequence than Stiles dying?” Derek asked. “I know he was pretty clear that receiving the Bite wasn’t what he wanted but Stiles wouldn’t want to just leave the Sheriff alone like that.”

 

“Or us,” Scott added quietly.

 

Deaton shook his head. “You misunderstood the meaning of my question, boys. The dire consequence of giving the Bite wasn’t to Stiles. It was to you, Derek, and the rest of your Pack.”

 

Scott frowned. “You mean giving Stiles the Bite is going to kill Derek?”

 

“What Stiles chooses to do with the connection Derek has established between them is up to him,” Deaton answered. “I’m afraid I won’t be much help in stopping Mr. Stilinski, here, if he wants to harm any of you.”

 

“Stiles wouldn’t do that.”

 

The veterinarian offered a thin smile. “Your faith in your best friend is remarkable, Scott, but at some point you have to realize that the being on my examination table is no longer your best friend… at least not the same version anyways.”

 

Derek noted for the first time the distance Deaton was keeping from the table Stiles was lying on. He hadn’t tried to help them carry the boy in. He hadn’t made any move to examine Stiles or provide him medical help. In fact Derek could see that Deaton was keeping a clear pathway between himself and the back door.

 

“He’s not turning into a werewolf is he,” Derek said, all too clearly not asking a question. Pieces of a Stiles-sized puzzle began to fall into place in his mind. “Because he was already something else when I gave him the Bite.”

 

Deaton nodded. “I apologize. I assumed you already knew what you were bringing into my office.”

 

Derek crossed his arms and stepped away from the table. “No. He never told me.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Scott demanded taking up Stiles’ hand as if it would compensate for the distance the other men had put between them and his best friend. “He’s a human boy, Derek. He’s just… he’s just a boy.”

 

There wasn’t a force on Earth that could make Derek meet Scott’s eyes after hearing his voice crack and break like that. Even without a Pack Bond connecting them, Derek could sense the intensity of emotions Scott was feeling. Derek felt overwhelmed at the scene of Scott cycling through grief, anger, love, betrayal and utter sadness. For just a moment Derek was jealous of their friendship and wished that he’d had a friend like that. The closest he’d ever come was Peter and that was nothing to brag about.

 

When Scott finally blinked back the tears his voice was alarmingly steady. There was also no more denial. Derek could hear in it the future Alpha he might become. “Giving him the Bite isn’t going to kill him, is it?”

 

Deaton shook his head. “So long as he’s provided sustenance in time. By the look of him it appears as if Stiles was trying to starve himself.” Scott’s nails lengthened into claws at that bit of news. “The Bite will have hastened things along but only hunger can kill an Incubus.”

 

Derek chanced a glance at Scott’s face before looking away once more. Apparently the potential True Alpha had also figured out what his best friend had become.

 

“So it is him? The sex demon, I mean.”

 

Deaton nodded. “They give off a particular energy that’s hard to ignore if you know what to look for. Ever since your Pack came asking for information on Succubus lore I’ve been paying careful attention to anyone who comes through my door.”

 

“They’re that dangerous?”

 

“They can be,” Deaton answered calmly enough though the distance he maintained was more telling. “Especially young ones or those without their Makers’ guidance. It looks like, in Stiles’ case, he may fall into both categories.”

 

Scott’s answering growl was low. “I still don’t think Stiles would hurt us.”

 

“Because you never tried to eat him just after Peter turned you?” Derek pointed out. God knows he’d heard Stiles tell the infamous My-Best-Friend-Tried-To-Eat-Me-In-A-Filthy-Locker-Room story every time he needed to guilt trip Scott into giving him the last slice of pizza.

 

“Stiles is also the one who taught me control,” Scott insisted. Somehow he still made it clear that Derek hadn’t been the one to do so. “I can do the same for him. It can’t be that different.”

 

“On the contrary. You lose control and your more aggressive instincts kick in. Stiles had to reign in his hunger.” Deaton chuckled darkly. “I have seen first hand how your friend consumes food, Scott. Can you imagine the self control it must take for him not to feed now that it’s a supernatural appetite?”

 

Derek wasn’t sure if Scott’s answering grimace was from picturing Stiles’ already messy eating habits or how Stiles would feed that hunger now.

 

“You said there would be consequences for the Pack,” Derek reminded the veterinarian.

 

“You can feel him in the Bond already, yes?”

 

Derek nodded. “It’s… different than it should be.”

 

The former Emissary let his gaze drift to the body lying between them. “Humans are the preferred food of choice for a Succubus but supernatural creatures like werewolves have their benefits too. Their recovery time and accelerated healing make them prime candidates for repeat feedings with a lesser chance of killing the victim.”

 

“So why do they prefer humans?” Scott asked.

 

“I suppose you could say that humans provide more nutritional value.” Deaton sighed at Scott’s continued look of confusion. “Feeding from a human being – to an Incubus – is like going to a fancy restaurant; the food tastes better but you can’t afford to eat there all the time. Feeding from a non-human entity is like going to a cheap buffet; the food isn’t quite as good for you but you can feast until you’re full and it’s a more practical option because there’s always another course waiting.”

 

Derek realized what the man was getting at. “You think the Bite will allow him to feed on the Pack?”

 

Deaton shrugged. “Like I said before, Stiles can and will feed on anyone he’d like. The Bite merely gives him an added advantage for bringing you and your Pack to the dinner table.”

 

“Such as?” Derek pressed, growing tired of the man’s cyclical conversations.

 

“For one, Stiles could feed on the energy of the Pack Bond from a distance,” Deaton explained. “Much of a Succubus’ powers lie in their ability to manipulate their victims’ psyche. By adding Stiles to your Bond, you’ve given him free reign to all of yours. Once he learns how to properly navigate the bond, he’ll understand more about each of you than you comprehend about yourselves.”

 

Scott shifted uncomfortably from his spot next to Stiles. “So we need to have sex with him?”

 

Deaton shook his head sharply. “He’s too far gone now into his hunger. Anyone who engages him that way will not walk away. Stiles would drain them dry without even realizing it.”

 

“Then how do we feed him?”

 

“You’re sure you want to do that?” Deaton asked, meeting Derek’s eyes. “It might be more compassionate for all involved to simply let him drift away. He’s nearly gone as it is.”

 

Derek understood what Deaton was really asking and he didn’t appreciate it. Was Derek sure that he wanted to bring yet another threat into his Pack? Relying on Peter for guidance had cost Paige her life. He’d been the one who let Kate in and it had cost him his family. Trusting Jennifer had nearly cost him his second Pack.

 

What would saving Stiles cost him?

 

“Derek,” Scott snapped.

 

The Alpha flashed red eyes at the other werewolf. “I’m thinking.”

 

 “There has to be a benefit to having an Incubus in a wolf pack, too, though, right?” Scott turned to Deaton in desperation. “You taught me that remember? Parasitic versus Symbiotic relationships?”

 

Deaton nodded with a small, proud smile on his lips. “That was the first Biology paper you asked me for help with.” He stepped closer to the examination table to get a better look at Stiles. “I suppose his control is more impressive than I first thought if Stilinski managed to keep this from you for so long.”

 

“Told you,” Scott said smugly to Derek. “I told you.”

 

Derek rolled his eyes. “I never said we wouldn’t save him. I just want to protect the Pack.”

 

“Stiles is pack too!”

 

“I wasn’t saying otherwise!”

 

“Your Betas are getting older, Derek,” Deaton pointed out. “Having a Succubus on hand for Heats might not be a bad solution… assuming you weren’t planning on shared heats as a bargaining strategy to form alliances with other packs?”

 

Scott looked ill at the idea. “Heats?”

 

Derek shook his head and ignored Scott. That was conversation for another day. “I think we’ve had our fill of dealing with other Packs for awhile. Besides if I handled Pack negotiations like that, I wouldn’t have an excuse to send Peter away so often.”

 

Deaton offered them both a rare smile. “Also assuming that Stiles agrees to it, you would might consider A Mate bond. It would benefit you both.” The smile grew slightly as Derek openly growled at the suggestion. “You must admit he already takes on most of the traditional roles of the Alpha Mate, Derek. He spends more time working out the kinks amongst your Pack than you do.”

 

“I thought you said there weren’t such things as Mates?” Scott asked.

 

“There are different types,” Deaton answered when it was clear that Derek wasn’t going to. “The first person you and your wolf pledge themselves to is your chosen Mate. They’re the only person you could love with – for lack of a better term – all of your heart.”

 

Scott’s hand drifted to the banded tattoo on his arm and for the first time understood what was broken inside Derek. He and Allison drifted apart from time to time but to truly lose her like Derek had lost Paige would be… irreparable.

 

“You can have other Mates,” Derek grunted pointedly, unable to meet Scott’s too knowing look.

 

Deaton cleared his throat awkwardly. “Yes, of course, though each time you do so you pledge a bit more of your soul to them so the Mate Bond declines each time. Essentially you lose a bit of your heart with each failed love. It’s one of the reasons why wolves are so frugal about such things.”

 

Scott shifted in his half-perched position next to Stiles. “So you and Stiles would be… dating?”

 

“No,” Derek dismissed immediately.

 

Scott visibly bristled on his friend’s behalf.

 

“The position of Alpha’s Mate does not have to be taken out of love, Scott,” Deaton explained quickly before another fight could break out. “It’s more of a formal role in the pack hierarchy. Given Stiles’ new talents it would be a benefit to them both since Derek could rely on Stiles as a co-leader and Stiles… well Stiles would be able to feed on the Pack’s energy through Derek’s bond as the Alpha.”

 

“I know you think he’s really practical about the romance stuff,” Scott explained, clearly uncomfortable with sharing inside secrets about his best friend, “but Stiles would want more eventually. He wants to find the kind of love his parents had.” At Derek’s angry look Scott quickly added, “Not that you don’t totally deserve to find something equally meaningful, too, dude.”

 

Deaton chanced a look in Derek’s direction. “The bond between an Alpha and their Alpha Mate has been known to evolve into something more emotional… over time that is.”

 

Derek tensed but said nothing to refute it.

 

“So is the Mate Bond how we, you know,” Scott performed an indecipherable series of hand gestures meant to underscore his question, “ _feed_ Stiles since it’s too dangerous to do it directly.”

 

“I never agreed to Mate anyone,” Derek pointed out though he got the distinct impression that both men chose to ignore him.

 

Deaton mulled the idea over in his head. “Would you feel comfortable making the decision to become Derek’s Mate for Stiles?”

 

Scott didn’t need anytime to decide before he was shaking his head. “Not if there’s another option.”

 

“Then we use the Pack Bond to feed him over distance until he’s healed enough – and conscious enough – to make choices for himself,” Deaton replied. He grabbed his prescription pad and started writing out notes. “It’ll be safer this way for all involved. The lack of physical access will make it harder for Stiles to gorge himself to the point of peril for any of you.” He gave Derek a pointed look. “The more participants we have the less the strain on their bodies for those involved.”

 

Derek took the hint – plus the opportunity to escape the conversation entirely – and disappeared into the waiting room to call Isaac. Scott took the list of ingredients Deaton would need and started hunting for them among the Veterinarian’s private stash of all things supernatural.

 

Deaton hesitated before finally giving Stiles’ shoulder a gentle pat of encouragement. “You have an impressive group of loyal friends, Stiles. I only hope you’ll remain the same young man who earned them in the first place.”

 

*

 

Ditching school early shouldn’t seem so effortless for the Pack but they’ve done it so often that it hardly fazes any of them anymore. Lydia only offers a disappointed sigh at the hit her GPA takes every time they have to rush off for some emergency or other before climbing into Jackson’s sports car. If it weren’t for the disturbing and tumultuous emotions they’d been feeling through the Pack Bond all day she might even have asked to sit out the meeting. But Stiles and Scott were missing and their Alpha had been worryingly vague – or rather even more vague than usual – about why they all had to rush to get to Deaton’s place.

 

Plus Lydia could connect the dots. Somehow Stiles’ succubus secret had been uncovered and her Pack would need her to keep them together. She’d already kept Isaac from stress-fighting with some Neanderthals on the soccer team after they’d realized both Scott and Stiles had bailed. The only real blessing for the day had been the lack of hormones since Stiles wasn’t there to drown them in lust for once.

 

“Stop freaking out and _think_ , damn it. Did he say anything else?” Erica demanded loudly into her cell phone from the back seat.

 

Jackson glared at her through the rear mirror. Erica caught the look and used her free hand to give him the finger. Lydia ignored their antics and used her enhanced hearing to eavesdrop on Erica’s call with Isaac. Yet another benefit of having all werewolves in the car was the speaker phone option was completely unnecessary. They could all hear Isaac’s frustrated words as clear as day.

 

“Just that there was something wrong with Stiles and Deaton has some kind of ritual to heal him,” Isaac explained yet again. Lydia could see his shadowy outline from his spot behind them in the passenger’s seat of Allison’s car. Boyd and Danny even more vague figures in Allison’s back seat.

 

“That can’t have been everything.”

 

Isaac let out a rush of air that made the phone fill with static. “Just that it would pull energy out of the Pack Bond. And that we’d all have to agree since it’s an all or nothing type deal.”

 

Lydia tensed at that fresh bit of information. She could guess just what kind of energy would be needed to help Stiles. Lydia had never been comfortable with non-quantifiable things. It was why Lydia had often left the Emissary side of things to Stiles and taken more of the research for herself. It wasn’t just because of what Peter had done to her but rather that there wasn’t always logic or order to magic.

 

Even with her limited understanding of all things mystical it still seemed like a terrible idea to use the Pack Bond to actually feed Stiles. At least if it were in person they could pull Stiles off of them if he started draining them too far. She hoped Deaton had a means of blocking Stiles’ metaphysical feeding tube if things got out of hand _especially_ since they would be the ones giving him sustenance.

 

Lydia’s sudden thoughtful silence must have made her fellow passengers suspicious because when she finally tuned back into the conversation both Jackson and Erica were eying her.

 

“What’s going on?” Isaac asked, breaking the tense silence of the car. “Why isn’t anyone saying anything?”

 

Erica narrowed her eyes at Lydia. “I’ll call you back.”

 

“Stiles is the succubus we’ve been looking for,” Lydia said in a preemptive strike. The resulting silence was totally worth it.

 

Also, in her defense, Lydia had been on edge enough for one day. Dealing with Erica’s bumbling attempts at interrogation in combination with Jackson’s epic bitch-face would just be too much. She could already feel the tension headache mounting. Stiles would just have to forgive her for letting the cat out of the bag – or the sex demon out of the closet as it were – a few minutes early.

 

That and the expression on Jackson’s face was incredibly amusing.

 

“And you didn’t _say_ anything?”

 

Lydia shrugged. “I promised Stiles I’d keep it quiet.”

 

Erica finally realized her mouth was still hanging open and shut it with a sharp snap of teeth. “When did it happen?”

 

“When he was visiting colleges.” There was a lack of nonchalance in Lydia’s answer that betrayed how upsetting it was to her wolf that a member of their Pack was hurt so far from home. She could see the same reaction in the others’ faces as well.

 

Jackson pressed down harder on the gas pedal and the noise of the rising engine flooded their ears. “That fucking asshole.”

 

Erica smacked his shoulder. “It’s not his fault.”

 

“After all the Kanima bullshit I went through and he doesn’t say anything?” Jackson shouted over the engine’s roar. “After all the shit he put _me_ through? He’s lucky I don’t get that restraining order back in place or kidnap him.”

 

Erica’s ringtone blaring interrupted either of the girls from talking Jackson down.

 

“What?” she snapped into the receiver.

 

It was Danny’s voice that echoed over the line this time. “Why is Jackson going _Road Warrior_ on us all of the sudden?”

 

“He got some bad news about Stiles,” Erica said before looking at Lydia for guidance. They had no idea how the other car would take to the news about Stiles and she wasn’t sure if she should tell them. Jackson’s reaction was certainly not a ringing endorsement on the combination of sudden revelations and automobiles.

 

They could hear Danny’s nervous intake of breath over the phone. “What bad news about Stiles?”

 

Erica must have caught the same hint of deception in Danny’s tone that Lydia had. She pulled the phone away from her ear so that she could give it a proper glare. “You fucking knew about him, too, didn’t you?”

 

“Know about what? I don’t – ”

 

“Danny knew?” Jackson roared. The metal steering wheel groaned under the pressure his grip was putting on it. “Did everybody know we had a sex demon in the pack?”

 

Danny sighed on his side of the phone at the same time as Boyd and Isaac started shouting. Erica hung up the phone again just as they could hear Allison demanding to know what the hell they were all fighting about. A few seconds later Allison’s car hit the brakes, swerved slightly over the yellow line, corrected itself and then sped up to catch up to Jackson’s car. It would have been amusing in any other circumstances.

 

Erica’s cell phone rang once more.

 

“WHAT?” Erica shouted her frustration.

 

_“Erica,”_ Derek rebuked her using his Alpha voice that had all three Beta’s cringing in their seats.

 

Erica held the phone away from her. “Sorry, Derek, I thought it was Isaac or Danny again – ”

 

Derek’s answering growl had her breaking off midsentence. “How far away are you?”

 

The occupants of the car tensed once more at the urgency in his voice.

 

Lydia plucked the phone from Erica’s hand. “We’re at least fifteen minutes away.”

 

“Too far,” Derek muttered to himself but they all heard it just fine. “Listen, we can’t wait for explanations. Stiles won’t last much longer.”

 

“I told them,” Lydia confessed. “About Stiles being the Succubus.”

 

There was a weighted pause on Derek’s end. “So you understand what the ritual we’re going to do involves?”

 

Lydia resisted the urge to preen. “Of course I do. I’m me. The others might not though.”

 

“Explain it to them,” Derek ordered. “Get them to agree and do it fast.”

 

“Just do it. They’ll agree.”

 

Derek sighed. “It’s a big decision, Lydia. You can’t just assume they’ll say yes. They need to give consent.”

 

“Is consent part of the ritual?” Lydia pressed.

 

“No.”

 

“Then go ahead.” Lydia gave Erica and Jackson a pointed look. “I don’t like the plan. I don’t think you do either. Given enough time we could probably figure something better out… but you wouldn’t be asking if it weren’t important.” She swallowed around the sudden attack of emotions. “If Stiles weren’t about to die, right?”

 

Derek’s silence was an answer in and of itself.

 

“Then do it. We’d give a lot more than this to save his life and you know it.”

 

Still silence.

 

“If it’s blame you’re worried about than just lay it on me,” Lydia snapped. They didn’t have time for Derek’s issues. “I’m the one consenting on everyone else’s behalf anyway.”

 

Derek hung up.

 

Lydia tossed Erica the phone. “Tell the others to be ready.”

 

“For what?” Erica asked.

 

“We’ll know it when it happens,” Lydia answered before placing a calming hand over the one Jackson had a death grip on the steering wheel with.

 

The car slowed back down.

 

*

 

Stiles was straining against the metal chains Scott and Deaton had used to secure him to the table. As soon as Deaton had given Stiles the injection of strange liquid necessary for the ritual the former teenage boy had woken up. His eyes were glowing gold and showed no hint of the Stiles they had once known. The noises the Succubus within him made were animalistic and desperate. That he was putting so much effort into reaching for the others only served to highlight how different the creature was than Stiles used to be.

 

Deaton had already relocated himself into the back office which he had assured them would offer protection should Stiles actually break free. Scott looked torn between a desire to comfort his friend and hiding away from the truth of what Stiles had lurking within. Derek did his best to ignore the arousal building within as he stepped in range of Stiles’ pheromones and made his way to the back room.

 

“They won’t get here in time,” Derek answered Deaton’s questioning look as he closed the door behind them. True to his word the effects of Stiles’ influence died out almost instantly with the barrier between them. The creature’s efforts to escape were still loud as ever. “We should start.”

 

Scott stepped away from the small window that allowed him to keep and eye on Stiles. “Are you sure? Did they all agree?”

 

“Lydia’s taking care of that.”

 

Apparently that was good enough for Deaton who immediately handed Derek a vial with the same liquid that had been injected into Stiles. Scott poured himself a glass as well which had both Derek and Deaton raising questioning eyebrows at him.

 

Scott offered a weak smile in response. “I’m still not part of Derek’s pack, right? This will give him access to mine as well.”

 

Derek plucked the glass from Scott’s hand and set it back on the table. “You’re also not an Alpha yet. No matter how much I want to see the conversation where you tell Stiles you werewolf married him while he was unconscious.”

 

“Yeah, no, I didn’t really think about that one did I?” Scott muttered with a sheepish smile on his face.

 

“As touching as this is I think Mr. Stilinski is about to slip his way out of those bonds,” Deaton warned them.

 

Sure enough the distinct sound of chains clattering onto the floor echoed from the next room. Deaton locked the door and ignored the pounding on the other side.

 

“Shall we begin?”

 

Derek didn’t give himself a chance to rethink it. Stiles was the one who always said his plans were the worst anyway so he might as well get it over with. In one quick move he had downed the liquid – surprisingly not completely disgusting tasting – and dropped the glass onto the table.

 

His vision instant began to blur. Only Scott’s grip on his arms kept him from falling face forward into the tiled floors. In the distance he could hear Stiles’ mindless banging stop. Scott finished lowering him into one of Deaton’s plush chair and propped a pillow behind his head.

 

His last clear image was of Deaton’s face swimming in front of him. “I really wish you’d have sipped that.”

 

Then all was darkness.

 

Then all was pleasure.

 

*

 

Jackson didn’t realize something was wrong until his car was already in the ditch.

 

The shift in his body had been subtle but strong. At first it was just his body temperature inching higher until he was tugging at the collar of his fitted button down for relief. The uncomfortable erection would probably been a more obvious clue had he not been doused in Succubus pheromones for a week and a half straight. There had been so many random dicks going hard at school that it had become common courtesy to act like there weren’t boners everywhere. The number of times Jackson had caught a teammates grinding a chub against his thigh after knocking them down at lacrosse practice had reached double digits within the first week.

 

The desperate need for release was the same as it had always been but the rest of it was new. For the first time in his life Jackson felt constricted in his clothes instead of empowered by how good he knew he looked in them. Jackson had forgotten the importance of driving his sports car safely but pulling over and into a complete stop was just not as important as getting off to him.

 

Not anymore.

 

He hadn’t reacted to Erica screaming at him to take back the wheel when he’d abandoned it to take off his shift instead. By the time he’d slipped off the too tight top Lydia had taken the wheel. Jackson’s foot had accidentally pressed down on the gas as he tried to find the right leverage to free his leg from his sculpted skinny jeans. Jackson doubted he’d ever wear clothes again, not when they were stopping all the access to his skin like that. Jackson wasn’t sure if the tremors that wracked his body as he finally freed his dick were a results of the air conditioning hitting his crotch or from the crash into the ditch.

 

“JACKSON!” Lydia screeched before slapping him hard across the face.

 

His dick twitched in excitement. “Oh god, Lyds, do that again.”

 

The bleeding cut on Erica’s forehead didn’t stop her from commenting from the back seat. “I didn’t know Jackson was so kinky in bed, Martin.”

 

Lydia shook her head worriedly. “He’s actually very vanilla in bed.”

 

“Really?” Erica asked skeptically. She leaned forward in the seat and twisted the closest of Jackson’s nipples. “Cause he really seems to like it now.”

 

Lydia smacked her hand away. “Do you mind? This is clearly part of whatever ritual Deaton’s doing.”

 

“Please,” Jackson begged. “Please help me.”

 

“We will, baby,” Lydia promised. “Where are you hurt? I don’t see you bleeding.”

 

Jackson thrust forwards with his hips enough that the tip of his dick smacked hard against the steering wheel. “I’m stuck. Can’t get off with this shit on.”

 

“We just crashed you expensive as hell car into a fucking ditch and you want her to help get your pants off?” Erica demanded.

 

“You could help?” Jackson offered in his daze.

 

Erica flicked him off.

 

The rejection seemed to much for the boy to handle as tears sprung into his eyes. “I have to fucking come. _Please._ ”

 

Both girls ignored his pitiful expression in favor of climbing out of the car. Lydia’s door was jammed shut so she made the very easy decision to climb into the back and out of Erica’s door instead of climbing over Jackson. Her boyfriend had let out a high pitched keening noise at the double rebuff that was more animal than human. In fact it was becoming apparent to both girls that the further along Jackson slipped into his desperation, the more his wolf side came out and his humanity evaporated.

 

Jackson hadn’t remembered how to take off his seat belt and had been forced to tear through it with his claws instead. Relief finally arrived as Jackson’s wolf used the same method to shred the tops of his jeans enough to slip out of them. The broken glass did nothing to dissuade Jackson from climbing into the backseat and stroking himself with abandon.

 

Which is exactly how the others found them when Allison’s car came screeching to a halt next to theirs. Thankfully the country road wasn’t used very often so there was little risk of anyone else joining them.

 

“We saw the car go off the road,” Danny explained as he dashed from the sedan to the wrecked sports mobile. “Are you guys okay?”

 

“Physically fine,” Erica grumbled, extracting shards of glass from her hair. “I may be mentally scarred for life though.”

 

Danny frowned in confusion. “What does that even mean? And where the hell is Jackson?”

 

Lydia and Erica exchanged vindictive looks before moving away from the back seat like a parting curtain. Lydia added to Danny’s view by throwing the back door open as well. Danny’s eyes opened wide as he was treated to sight of Jackson in all his glory pounding away at his own dick. The display was quite impressive since Jackson had attempted to gain leverage by throwing his legs up against the side of the car and propped his head up against the opposing arm rest. The position also spread his legs wide enough to show off the pink of his hole tensing and relaxing with every wet stroke of his spit-slicked palm.

 

“Jackson! Put that away!” Danny ordered, jogging just close enough to close the door once more.

 

If it also helped distort the sounds of Jackson begging Danny for a hand or a mouth to help him out it was just an added benefit that went unmentioned. Allison, Boyd, and Isaac were already looking Lydia and Erica over for any injuries when Danny joined them on the embankment.

 

Boyd raised his eyebrows in question. “So is what they said true? About Jackson?”

 

Danny flushed slightly. “Probably.”

 

“So if it’s part of the spell healing Stiles than it’s a good thing, right?” Allison asked in her most Disney-Princess-optimistic-voice.

 

Lydia sighed. “I figured something like this would happen.”

 

“You did?” Danny asked, surprised.

 

“You know better than anyone what it’s like to feed a sex demon, Danny,” Lydia mocked. Her mood was clearly tipped to the sour after the car accident. “What did you think it was going to involve? Chanting? A bit of human blood on an altar?”

 

“To be fair the last bit of ritual magic we dealt with was Ms. Blake and she did like all of that,” Isaac added with a helpful smile before he caught on to what Lydia had also said. “Wait so you and Stiles really aren’t just dating? You were feeding him?”

 

Danny avoided their accusatory gazes. “I found out by accident and then decided to help out my friend.”

 

“By accident?” Boyd pressed.

 

“Meaning Stiles jumped him and it felt good enough to keep letting him do it,” Lydia answered on his behalf. “That and he’s totally enslaved to him now.”

 

“It’s not what it sounds like!” Danny shouted before the others could start freaking out. “I mean he could totally control my body and keep me from saying anything to you guys about it but besides that it’s really been kind of nice.”

 

Allison still didn’t look convinced. “He made it so you couldn’t speak about it?”

 

Danny nodded. “I even tried to act it out Charades-style with Jackson but my body just froze up.”

 

“So how are you telling us about it now?” Erica asked.

 

Danny froze. He hadn’t thought of that.

 

“Stiles’ power over Danny is basically depleted since he’s nearly…” Lydia trailed off at what her logical conclusion was going to be. She pointedly cleared her throat and offered her friends a weak smile. “Though with the way Jackson is treating himself back there I’m sure you’ll start to feel fully under Stiles’ control again in no time.”

 

“So that’s the ritual then?” Allison guessed just as Jackson’s moans reach a new high. “Jackson feeds him his energy? Through what? The Pack Bond?”

 

Lydia nodded. “I assume that’s why Derek wanted our permission. He didn’t want us debasing ourselves without consent.”

 

“From what Stiles told me about Derek’s history with sex that actually makes perfect sense,” Danny said. For such a bossy guy consent was certainly big deal to their Alpha.

 

“Um, guys,” Isaac said worriedly, “I don’t think it’s just Jackson getting fed on.”

 

The group turned to see that Isaac was already planted on the ground with his shoes and socks off. The teenager was using his latest scarf to wipe away the sweat building on his brow. As the scarf came away they could see the faint amber glow of his wolf eyes slowly taking over his human ones.

 

“We should get him off the road before he’s incoherent,” Lydia suggested. “I don’t want another incident like with Jackson.”

 

“Aren’t you going to help me stop this?” Isaac demanded as he pulled off his trendy over coat and threw it as far into the bushes as he could.

 

Lydia raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow at him. “Do you want us to stop it?”

 

Isaac didn’t appear to be aware that he was already stroking himself to full hardness though his pants when he answered. “No? Maybe?”

 

“Is the spell forcing him to enjoy it?” Boyd asked, clearly torn about what to do.

 

“That’s not usually how it works,” Danny answered. “I mean – for me, at least – it was always a bit sketchy. Like my body was always for it and I didn’t personally care enough to fight against it. But usually it was like Stiles just knew what turned me on and kept offering it to me.”

 

“Yeah – that’s – ” Isaac blushed as he let out a long moan of pleasure at finally getting the rest of his clothes off save his boxers. The tent in the front of said undergarments gave a telling twitch at Danny’s explanation though. “It’s like all those hot spots on my body are waking up all at once. Even some I didn’t know about.”

 

“Like Jackson getting rough and kinky in the car,” Erica nodded.

 

Isaac shivered at the description. “Right now any kind of contact sounds amazing.”

 

Allison tilted her head back towards the wreckage. “Do you want us to put you and Jackson together?”

 

“It might go faster,” Lydia added as a means of reassuring Isaac that she was okay with that arrangement. She was comfortable enough in their relationship to let Jackson’s wolf go wild with its pack mate. “Unless you’ll feel weird about it later?”

 

Isaac chuckled and slid his underwear over his hips. The others diverted their gazes as he kicked them off the rest of the way where they landed on Allison’s side mirror. “I think we’re all going to feel a little weird about this later.”

 

Boyd couldn’t help but agree after watching Isaac’s dick flop around as he walked through the group towards the car.

 

“Not me,” Danny tried to joke. “I’ve seen you all frolicking in wolf form before. Perks of being human on the full moon.”

 

“You and Allison will be watching us do a lot more than that,” Isaac responded as he reached the other car. A wide, pleased grin settled across his features as he watched Jackson. “Might want to keep an eye on our clothes, too.”

 

Boyd froze at the implications. “Why just Danny and Allison?”

 

Isaac either ignored him or was too lost to the heat as he climbed in. The last they saw of him was Jackson’s clawed hands reaching out to help him inside and then legs mingling together.

 

Lydia swore. “Of course. I can’t believe Lahey figured it out before me.”

 

“Figured what out?” Danny asked.

 

“Oh,” Allison said before shutting her mouth with a sharp click. “Sorry. I just figured it out too.”

 

“Figured what out?” Danny asked again, growing impatient and more than a bit worried.

 

“First Jackson then Isaac,” Lydia explained through gritted teeth. “And Derek isn’t picking up his phone so he must have already been first… which makes sense.”

 

Danny still wasn’t getting the clue. “So?”

 

“Stiles is feeding off our Bond,” Boyd replied. “Derek’s the Alpha. Jackson was the first Beta he ever made.”

 

Danny frowned. “I thought Isaac was?”

 

Allison shook her head. “Technically Jackson received the Bite first. Him turning into a Kanima only delayed his being fully added to the pack collective.”

 

“So the feeding started with Derek, then moved to Jackson as the first to receive the Bite,” Lydia summarized. “Isaac was after that which means…”

 

Erica’s eyes shot open wide as she finally understood too. “Fuck that means I’m next.”

 

“We’re all in the same boat,” Boyd grunted as he stripped off his plain black t-shirt. He paused at their collective look of bewilderment. “No, I’m not feeling the effect yet. But if it’s going to happen I’m not going to worry about it.” He offered a hand up to Erica. “We doing this together or what?”

 

Erica grinned up at him. “I always did want to try this on the full moon some time.”

 

Boyd matched her grin. “I know.”

 

“There will be hell to pay if I get knocked up,” Lydia announced before untying the bindings of her dress.

 

Allison gaped at her. “How can you joke about that?”

 

“What else am I supposed to do about?” Lydia asked rhetorically. “You better not let my clothes get wrinkled or mud on my heels, Argent.”

 

Danny accepted – or more accurately didn’t dodge – the clothes tossed his way by Erica and Boyd who were already touching one another with abandon.  Lydia huffed at being left out and stomped away towards the car.

 

“Why am I always naked in the fucking woods,” she asked before climbing into the back seat with the two wolves already lost in each other.

 

Allison watched the couple struggle to fit into the back seat before giving up and getting on the undamaged trunk of the car instead. Allison and Danny both made sure to get a good eyeful before moving away to collect Isaac’s discarded clothing. They worked in relative silence only interrupted by the sounds of Erica then Boyd then Lydia succumbing to their wolf states and rutting with abandon.

 

It wasn’t until after Jackson humped Isaac through the back windshield and all five of them finally formed one giant mass of writhing bodies did Allison start to giggle hysterically.

 

Danny gaped. “What are you laughing about?”

 

“I was just – just thinking,” Allison answered, struggling to breath around her laughter. “That it’s a good thing Jackson’s car hit that ditch because he would never have driven it again anyways. Not after what they did on that back seat.”

 

“Are you kidding?” Danny asked, feeling giddy himself. “Jackson’s probably going to put that car on display as evidence of his first orgy.”

 

At that Allison began laughing so uncontrollably that Danny had to prop her up. Danny felt bad that it had been so long since either of them had laughed like that. He sent out a silent prayer that next time it would take the combination of a car wreck, a near death, a Succubus, a sex spell and an orgy to bring them to such hysterics again.

 

_Well_ , Danny corrected himself, _the orgy could happen again._

 

An echo of his amusement bounced around his mind and Danny tensed at the sensation.

 

“What?” Allison asked after feeling his body freeze against hers.

 

“It’s Stiles,” Danny whispered. “I can feel him. He’s back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed the latest installment of Make A Beast Out Of You!
> 
> As you can tell from this chapter I’ve attempted to incorporate some of Season 3A into this. I’m sure you can also see that the effort was a bumbling one at that. Let us just accept that – for the purposes of this fic – everything that happened in 3A still happened before this story started only everybody lived.
> 
> Okay? Great.
> 
> Also I tried to hint at where Peter has been this whole time since I know many of you had asked about that in reviews. Basically Derek keeps Peter out of his hair by sending him to keep peace with other Packs (lets also assume this is a slightly less I-WAS-ALWAYS-THE-ALPHA version of Peter than we saw in 3A) and that Cora tags along to make sure he doesn’t get into too much trouble while away. Not to worry I have plans to bring them both back to Beacon Hills in one of the ficlet sequels to MABOOY.
> 
> This will probably be the last update for a bit. I’ve got to get some work done on my original novel but (as well as throw up at least one update for some of my others fics) but then I’ll be back to work on this as hard as ever.
> 
> Though I reserve the right to post little snippets of stuff as they come to me on my blog.
> 
> Don’t worry too much since it’s taken me months between updates anyway so it may seem as if no extra time was taken at all… wow what a depressing thing to say about my own story :/
> 
> Comments are always welcome :)

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr (moriartysminion.tumblr.com) for teasers and progress reports on all my stories.


End file.
